Babylon 5: No Surrender, No Retreat
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: Part 5 of the Babylon 5 AU. As the war between Order and Chaos turns ugly, the fragile alliance created by Sheridan reels from the loss of their leader. Meanwhile, as Minbar turns to rebuilding, the Human Remnant Civil War becomes more bitter without a foreign war to divide their attentions. And people must choose between friendship and what they know to be right.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Heptharg III was much like any other of the nine major colonies of the Drazi Freehold. It hosted a population of roughly three million Drazi, and sixty-seven thousand aliens. Mostly they came from the Narn populace, but there was a few of the last surviving Markab who hadn't been infected by the Drafa Plague. There were a few humans and a couple dozen Centauri living there.

On the highest mountain of its Devorian Range, lived a small group of Vorlon Emissaries. Only one was an actual Vorlon, the rest were underlings, in servitude to the Vorlons and their Empire. Most were Drazi, except for one Minbari. The Minbari was a woman, who wore the black robes of the Most Noble and Ancient Elli'seen Order. It had been a religious extremist group, that assassinated leaders and murdered members of rival religions before Valen arrived and destroyed that Order. She did not even remember her own name, although the knowledge that she once had a name was clear to her. Now, she went simply by "Inquisitor".

Once she had been misguided. But not anymore. Now she did the bidding of her masters, the Lords of Order.

She was as in tuned with the senses of her Lady, the Vorlon Niscehek, who she liked to think as a woman, as a lover was with her mate of many years. But she was troubled, as if some dark cloud had descended. She spoke not of her worries to her companions, nor were any worthy of the voice of a Vorlon. As they stayed in their sanctuary high above the capitol city of the colony, Haptharg City, the foul mood of grief that permeated from the Vorlon was becoming infectious.

"What troubles you, Lord?" she asked, having long learned that Niscehek preferred the masculine title over the feminine.

"One of our eyes has shut," she said, the purple and blue striped encounter-suit giving no other indication of what she meant.

The Inquisitor waited for more, but when it didn't come, she turned and headed off with a brisk walk to the outer balcony, and felt the chill as clouds swiftly rolled in from the west, high above in the sky. The dark and dirty grey hues spoke volumes of the rain they held inside. She heard one of the Drazi companions step up and squint at the sky.

"Looks like rain," he said.

"It no rain," another Drazi said.

"How can you be certain?" the Inquisitor asked.

"Sky not heavy," he shook his head vigorously, "Rain make sky heavy. Clouds move too fast. Too much for rain cloud."

Indeed, she looked out and saw that they were moving much faster then was weathers wont. Even on days where the clouds seemed to race across the sky due to the wind they never moved so fast. In fact, there was no grey curtains off in the distance showing rainfall far beyond. Within minutes the entire sky was cast in grey, and no sun shine peered through the dark vale.

From behind them the Inquisitor could feel the Vorlon's gaze upon her. She turned towards her and the Vorlon moved backwards deeper into the mountain stronghold. But, there was no order to move back, so she stayed, watching the spectacle unfold.

Far off in the distance, she could hear something. Much like a missile flying through the sky. And very shortly afterwards the ground trembled slightely. Soon, she could see black slivers falling from the sky and exploding, and they got closer as each one fell. She could see massive eruptions of dirt, rock and forest as the explosions rent the air and shook the ground. They were frozen in place as they watched one falling towards the city, striking and watched as with a massive fireball erupt, consuming the entire city.

Then, she looked up and saw one coming straight down towards the mountain. Only then did she hear the scream in her mind. But soon she knew nothing as the missile impacted the slope below and the whole ground was ripped apart, killing her with the concussive force that ruptured her heart.

* * *

The Vorlon survived the blast being deeper in the mountain, gliding as fast as she could towards her personal ship. She could feel it's terror, and confusion. She sent soothing emotions before her, trying to calm it, but it did nothing to help. She was the youngest of the Vorlon race, only a thousand years old. And her ship hadn't yet become accustomed to her thoughts as well as Kosh or even her idol Ulkesh. Some ships were so bonded to their masters that the state of the one was the state of the other. But not her ship. It was far too young. They were both far too young.

She rounded the corner to the docking-bay and watched with dismay as her ship broke free from the hanger-bay, fleeing without her. It hadn't gone too far before it was nicked by a passing shell and she felt its death throes as it plunged into the path of another missile. The next missile came straight at her, and she tried to escape her encounter-suit. Not fast enough though. Her last thought was of how she wished she could have experience the corporeal form of reproduction.


	2. Honesty and Plots

**Chapter 1: Honesty and Plots**

Centauri Prime burned. Every city, every town, every village burned. Estates were all but wiped out of existence, with only the burnt and smoldering remains as any proof of the past heritage on the lands. The vast forests were cut down. The Byzantine Mountains were pummeled. All this happened.

And yet, G'Kar had to let out a frustrated sigh as the Kha'Ri glared at him. He hated the weekly report. He hated worse these monthly conferences that brought him back to Narn even more. Especially since he knew that no matter what, he was being maneuvered very carefully to being pushed out of his position as military governor of Centauri space.

"Has the rebellion been quashed?" asked Councilor M'Rag of the Second Circle. The second circle was responsible for oversight of the war-effort and subsequent pacification of worlds taken by the Narn Regime.

"No," he said, trying to not let his impatience show.

"Why not?" came the question.

"The Centauri are a strong-willed people," he replied, "It is hard to quash that."

One of the other councilor's snorted. "That's always been the cry of every conqueror," he said dismissively, "And of those who talents are lacking."

G'Kar burning intense gaze fixed on the small man and very shortly the man was squirming under his glare. Yes, he'd have not patience for this fool.

"I'll let your comment slide," he said slowly, "Since your experience in such matters is lacking. I was in the military fighting in the Resistance, Councilor, while you were still on a soft diet of mothers-milk."

"G'kar," came the growled threat of the only councilor he had respect for, and even then it wasn't real respect. Ma'lar from the city of Ga'kar in the southern plains. He had seen some service in the resistance, unlike the rest of these fools. But he had never actually killed any Centauri, but had been a gun runner.

Better that then nothing he assumed.

"Did you not anticipate this happening?" M'Rag demanded, "And did you not say you were the man for the job?"

"Of course I am!" G'Kar snapped, "But these things take time! Culling the Great Famalies are only the beginning. We need to break their will to resist. We need-"

"Yes," Ma'lar said, holding up his hand, "You need time. We, or at least I understand that. But the First Circle thinks otherwise. You've had over two months, but the report of your underlings suggests things are worse then you've claimed."

"What are you saying?" G'Kar asked, "What do you plan?"

"If you cannot provide us with a secure Centauri space in a month," M'Rag said, "You will be replaced with someone not so kind to the Centauri. Someone who knows how to handle such situations."

"And who is this _wiser_ and more _competent_ person?" G'Kar nearly spat the words out.

There was a tapping on the ground and the sound of elaborate steps across the stone floor. Out from a corner he hadn't noticed stepped a man. He was human, short by their standards for their males. He wore clothing of an older sort, the kind he'd seen in old Earth movies about the Imperialistic Age of that dead world. He lifted a tall hat to him in greeting.

"I am Sebastian," he said with a smile that sent shivers down G'Kar's back, "You are G'Kar, I presume. 'tis a pleasure to finally meet you."

* * *

G'Kar stepped inside the hover taxi. The driver, an angry female he'd hired for the day, turned to him, looking impatient.

"Where to now?" she demanded.

"Take me to the spaceport," he said, "My business is concluded here."

"Whatever," she muttered and began cursing as she pulled away from the underground parking lot and zoomed out at neck break speed.

G'Kar had seen his fair share of terrifying things. He'd seen people vivisected as they were punished. He'd seen beheadings of small pouchlings. He'd even once been captured by the Centauri and forced to watch a whole village be eaten by Zargs let loose. So, it was fair to say he didn't scare easily. But he clutched his knees as she dodged and weaved through the heavy traffic of the capitol city of Narn.

Narns were many things. But good drivers was not among them.

He let his mind focus on something else to pass the time. He'd have to talk to Cartagia. That fool. He hoped he'd die. Perhaps he'd do that as soon as he got back. Besides, Vir Cotto was the one who was to be put in charge of the Centauri Republic. Galen had made that clear to him.

While he might not think much of the little man, he did have potential. A ton of it. Even an old soldier like G'Kar could see that.

* * *

Sebastian watched the hover taxi barreling down the streets. Like everything else Narn, it was brown and square. Why did these Godless people feel so much need to be attached to reds, and darkness? The Devil worketh in dark places. And was not Red the Devil's delightful color?

He did appreciate the power G'Kar had. He was a force. A powerhouse. He could see the likeness of Saul the Apostle in his being. No, of course on the level of the skin. But his bearing and commanding presence was what he felt that that Great Apostle of the Lord would have had.

"It is a pity you stand in the way of my Lords great work," he muttered, and twisting the lions head of his cane, a flame erupted and he could see the hover taxi up close.

Now with it so close by the power his Lords had granted him, he raised his staff and slammed it on the ground. One of the engines exploded. Again he pounded the ground. The other engine exploded. As it began to careen out of control, he pounded the staff again on the ground and the image shifted to the driver, whose head snapped 360 degrees and she collapsed onto the controls. The image shifted and he watched as the car plunged itself into the right side of a building, smashing its way through stone, tables and people. And with another pounding of his staff, the building collapsed onto the hover taxi.

Satisfied that G'Kar would surely be dead, the coldness of his killers eyes became ever more colder at the thrill of killing in his Lords work.


	3. Enemies Close

**Chapter 2: Enemies Close**

"All we need to do is place the explosives along the Ventre Bridge," Ex-Prime Minister Malachi said, "That bridge separates the main garrison from the rest of the city. Take it out and most of the Narns can't get across."

"At least until they find transports that can fly them over," the old Guardsman replied.

"But it will take them forever to get those transports," Malachi pointed out, "enough time to gain control of the city."

"But there always at least a couple hundred Narns in the city itself," the guardsman retorted, "Who knows if we'd be able to subdue them in time."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Malachi replied, especially with news of MarMaster G'Kar's accident. We won't have an opportunity this golden again."

"I agree," Londo Mollari, de facto leader of the resistance said, "We need to use this opportunity while we still have it. See to it Captain."

The guardsman looked as if he wished to argue still, but he rolled his eyes and nodded his acceptance of the orders. He lumbered off and left the two older men by themselves. Yes, it was good to be leaders. They could order and see it carried out.

Londo waited until the Captain was far off then leaned in closer to Malachi, keeping his voice low. Some things were better let kept between confidants.

"What do you think happened to G'Kar?" he asked, "You think perhaps Vir might have had something to do with it?"

Malachi shrugged. "I don't know what resources he all has," he replied, "But I think he was killed by one of the other Narns."

Londo's mind flashed to ha dream. His death dream. Centauri had the ability to see their own deaths. And while he told no one, in his dream, he was an old man, perhaps ten or so years from now. And he was wearing Imperial White. He was in a death struggle with a one-eyed Narn. They were squeezing the life out of each other. And last night he had had the dream again.

"I think you'll find he's got more lives than those Earth animals with fur and tails..." he said, "What are they called?"

Malachi frowned. "Ducks?"

"Yes!" Londo snapped his fingers, "He's got more lives than a duck. I think we shall see him again. But, if it was another Narn, I hate to see what he'll do to Centauri Prime."

"That's why it's vital we regain control while whoever it is hasn't arrived yet," Malachi agreed, "If we can regain control, we won't have to worry about it."

The first thing that signaled something was wrong was the flash. And then the roll of thunder. The whole north wall collapsed and before they knew it, Narn riot control troopers were marching into the ruins of the building, heavy armor shrugging off hastily fired shots from the surprised resistance fighters. Mollari pulled at Malachi's coat to pull him up.

"We've got to flee," he said, but Malachi gasped as a plasma bolt connected with his spine and he collapsed, blood pouring from his death wound.

Londo didn't wait, but turned to flee, leaving the body of his old friend behind. But he'd barely gone two steps towards the backdoor when in burst a squad of Narn troopers, beating down the Centauri trying to escape. He turned to run for a window to jump out but a Narn suddenly appeared behind him, and clubbed him over the head. Stars exploded before he blacked out.

* * *

He awoke violently in the Throne Room, water dripping off his face. The Narn guard took a step back, and Cartagia smiled joyfully to see him awake. He flung his hands up in the air, and Vir Cotto stood next to him, doing a good job at pretending ignorance.

_Good Vir_, he thought to himself, _We can't afford to lose you to, yes._

"Well Mollari," Cartagia called out, "Welcome back. You have been a very naught boy."

Mollari feigned ignorance. "I have been?" he said, raising an eyebrow, "I do not remember doing anything wrong."

Cartagia walked up to him, clicking his teeth and shaking a finger. "Tisk, tisk, Londo," he said, walking up and holding his chin, "I know you got bonked on the head hard, but not _that_ hard. Why not tell me what sins have you committed lately."

"I've only upheld the law," Mollari said, looking into the crazed and demented eyes of the Emperor, "Including the first and most basic law."

"And what law is that?" Cartagia said with the same intone as one would use with a child, "Do tell me."

"A prisoner must escape."

"That would imply one was in captivity," Cartagia sniffed.

"We are enslaved," he replied bitterly, "To the Narn."

"You have caused more damage than the Narns have to this world," Cartagia said, letting go of Mollari's head and turning his back to him.

"Me?" Mollari demanded, feeling the old anger rising in him, "I have not hurt this world! The Narns bombed us, the Narns murder our citizens. The Narns sacrilege our sacred temples."

"You shot down transport carrying food!" Cartagia snapped, whirling on his heel, "You make people starve. You kill Narns and they slaughter five hundred of our people! You destroy public works!"

Mollari felt himself lose complete control over his temper. How dare he say that? He fought to liberate his people! He did not cower and do as ordered to be Narn puppeteers. And here before him soon the main puppet, acting as if _he_ were the traitor!

"How dare you?!" he spat, "I fight for the people! Unlike you, who do nothing but lick the dust off their boots!"

The hand slapped him hard across the face. He had endured worse, but the slap had been across a bruised part of his face and it made him cringe. Cartagia stood above him in self-righteous wrath.

"You forget your place Mollari!" he snarled, "I am master here on Centauri Prime. Not you."

"No," he spat blood that had foamed in his mouth, "You're not. G'Kar and his overlords are in command here. You are as much a prisoner as the rest of us. I pity you though. You don't even realize you are a prisoner."

"Save your pity for yourself," Cartagia snarled, "Haul him off to the dungeons. We shall see how much he likes the prisons he's filled up with his own rivals and enemies."

The Narns grabbed him on both sides with an iron grip and he was dragged around, facing away from Cartagia. He saw Vir slink a little back, probably as a precaution of trying to run after him. At least he was playing it smart. As he was dragged from the Throne Room, he thought how odd it was. Vir was the last hope of Centauri Prime.

* * *

Commander David Corwin walked down the outer corridors of Zha'Valen'Venni, looking at the recent battle damage that had been inflicted upon the station. The Vorlons had given technology to the Alliance of Sheridan as it was called that allowed the outside of a breeched section of the ship a force field that held in the atmosphere and kept the hard vacuum of space on the other side of the field. But, it did nothing to shield his eyes from the jagged rents that were like claws through the hull of the ship. How many Rangers, Tak'cha and others had been sucked out into space from this one breech alone?

It was merely by luck that they hadn't been destroyed. Even with the arrival of Marrago's remnant fleet and the Vorlons task force, the Shadows could have destroyed this station. What had happened that had forced them to flee? He doubted it had been the arrival of so many forces that had trounced them.

"I see you have come to see the damage yourself," a Scottish voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned to see Marcus Cole step up beside him.

"It's amazing," Corwin said.

"Amazing?" Marcus frowned.

"The sheer destructive power," he waved his hand, "Even the Minbari couldn't have rent such a great gash into the station."

"The Shadows are of a different age," Marcus agreed with a nod, "Although, where you see only damage, I see hurt."

Corwin frowned. "Aren't they the same?" he asked.

"According to tradition," he said, "Valen died on this station. Whether that is true or not no one knows. But supposedly, his soul became one with the station. Being Entil'zha gives me certain power of...well, observation one could say. Or perhaps awareness is the better term. I can feel the ship physically hurt in a way I can't explain to you. Almost as if I were hurting, although I received no hurt myself."

Corwin raised an eyebrow. This Scot was an odd fellow. But he liked him all the same.

"It could also mean you are sleep deprived," he commented.

Marcus chuckled. "Perhaps," he said, "Anyhow, I thought you'd be interested. My Rangers say that the Shadows pulled back due to a massive nuclear explosion on Za'Ha'Dum. It's messed them all up."

"Any word on if the Captain is still alive?' he asked, hopeful.

Marcus shook his head. "No," he said, "There isn't. Although there is some talk that Sheridan set off the device himself. But no one is sure."

"But there is one way to find out," Corwin reasoned, not about to give up on his old commander and friend.

"My thoughts exactly," Marcus smiled with a glimmer in his eye.


	4. The First of All

**Chapter 3: The First of All**

Welcome, child. I have been expecting you.

"You-you have?"

Perhaps not you specifically. But someone to talk to. It's been a long time since anyone talked to me.

"How long?"

Last count roughly a thousand years. The Shadows as they are called by the Younger Races used to seek me out. Seek my guidance and wisdom. But, not anymore.

"Who are you?"

Does it matter?

"Who are you?"

That is a question with a thousand answers. What is my skin color? What is my age? What are my hobbies? What are my favorite songs? What places do I wish to visit? What places have I visited? Those all are part of who I am.

"Who are you?"

If I told you my name is Lorien, it answers none of those questions. You still know nothing about me. For all you know, that name is a lie. For all you know, your life was a lie.

"My life wasn't a lie. It's a sad reality."

Reality is something that our minds create to instruct us on what we think and what we feel. In fact, reality is nothing more than a sea of changing things. Much like the truth. It changes according to what we are told and what experience teaches us.

"Where-where am I?"

Roughly a mile below the earth. My sanctuary. There is no escape from here.

"There is escape. There always is."

I have watched you and followed you without your knowledge for seven days. You have gone around in circles. Your whole life is a circle you know. Ending with your soul no longer in your body and the remains vanishing.

"Seven days? Impossible. It can't have been seven days."

Ah. But it has.

"Certainly not. Otherwise, I would have been hungry by now."

You would if you were alive. But you aren't. You are dead.

"No-I'm-"

As dead as ragweed on the sea.

"No...no, that's not true. I...my pulse. I have no pulse. That's impossible."

And yet here you are, feeling and experiencing it. That is why seeing is not believing. Have you felt hungry at all? The need to drink? What about sleep? Have you had any urges? And what about your child in your arms? Has it once hollered for sustenance? Has it once needed to be changed? No, you are both dead.

"There's too much. The Alliance needs me. The War needs me. The Vorlons said so."

...Yes. It is always a sad thing for a parent to watch their children bicker and fight. Did I fail to teach them correctly? Was it my fault they went this way? Once they had such noble ideals, but they have both gone astray. Too far astray.

"Your children? You must be one of the First Ones then. Kosh told me there were others."

No. Ha ha, no. I am not a First One. I am the First One. I am the parent of all races, in a figurative sense. And all younger races are my figurative children.

"How can you be the First One? That's impossible."

You also said you being dead was impossible. And yet you have all the proof you need. I was old before the first of the primordial elements gathered to create your world. I remember the first stars in the bright glory. But, the Universe knew that immortal beings such as ourselves needed something new. So, it made younger races. First came the Shagh Toth which you call Soul Hunters. Then came the Shadows. Then came the Vorlons, the Walkers, the Xan and so many others. Then the younger races. And each race lived shorter and shorter lives.

"Can't you stop your children from fighting then?"

No, they are beyond listening to me. They have gained their own wisdom and seen their own glory and power. Remember the old lesson? Power corrupts? It does. It always has. There is little I haven't seen or learned. But, I know the price that comes from it can be terrible.

"Power without restrain isn't power at all."

Exactly. Wise words. Worthier than what I've heard spoken by many a Vorlon and Shadow.

"So...if I am dead, why am I walking around and breathing? Am I a zombie?"

Zombie? I am unfamiliar with that term.

"Um...Undead."

Ah...no. Not exactly. You three won't let go of life. You cling to it like a tick on a dog. You must all three let go. Otherwise, tick tock. Tick tock. You will always be between Life "tick" and Death "tock."

"Three? What are you talking about? There is only me and my son."

You have a Vorlon inside of you. Probably broke off a piece of its soul during your fight above to stay alive.

"The white light in my head that knocked me down. Kosh is still alive?"

Kosh? Is that the name of it? I once met it about two thousand years ago. During a break between wars. Back when the Shadows would allow Vorlons to come to Za'Ha'Dum to speak with me. Now, they won't allow anyone. Even now you have friends landing on the planet. But, they will die. You however, must let go. All three of you.

"I can't! I can't just die. There's a war on. Can't you understand?"

Is that really what you want? To go back to a galaxy torn by war? I could keep you alive, return you to right before the explosion. That is the only way I would be able to keep you from dying. But, you would be forced to surrender to the Shadows. And you would still fight a war that either way you would lose.

"No war is unwinnable."

This is true. And there are ways to win. I can give you that knowledge. But, you must die first.

"I-I can't. I'm afraid."

Fear is not a bad thing. Nor is death.

"I can't...I can't accept it."

But you already are. You are accepting it. Even now, all three of you are allowing yourselves to fade.

"Why...why is it getting dark, I can't see anything."

Fear not, my child. You are accepting what must be. Nothing lives forever, sooner or later, one must die. Even I possibly could die one day. If you die, I could bring you back with knowledge on how to end this war. But, I can only breath on the dying embers. Not create new life.

"But, you'll catch me?"

I will catch all three of you. Do you have anything worth living for?

"Delenn."

Then call her name. Say the three words that bind anyone to you, whether they know it or not. Speak the truth, and you shall be finally able to die.

"But I'll still be able to live?"

I promise nothing. It might not work at all.

"But I can hope."

Yes, hope will endure forever.

"Alright, I think I am ready. Everything is becoming warm. It feels good."

Death is not so bad, John Sheridan. Now, let go. And enter Tock.

"I LOVE YOU, DELENN!"

Lorien stood in place, looking down at the broken body of father, son and Vorlon. They had accepted the inevitable. They all had. And now, he smiled. At long last he had finally had someone to talk to.


	5. Hour of the Wolf

**Chapter 4: Hour of the Wolf**

Za'Ha'Dum. Like a cancerous plague it stood out before them. But, Anla'Shok Lennier needed to go down to the planet. The one he had sworn to protect was down there. Sitting beside him was Delenn. She had insisted upon coming along, and who was he to say no? They had a bond, her and Sheridan, one that was not to be trifled with.

Susan Ivanova had wanted to come along as well, but her condition would not allow her to be much use. Strange how the two had grown the friendship they had, to the point she wanted to come with. But, in her place was Laura Takashima. Finally completely healed from her Keeper's influence, she was ready to face the Shadows head-on. And so, down through the thin atmosphere they traveled.

Delenn stiffened in her seat as they landed near a platform where another shuttle was. Lennier turned to her and gentle reached out. He placed a hand on her knee and she started.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she blinked, wiping away at her brow, sweat glistening on her face, "I-I heard John. He called my name. He's...alive. I know he is."

Lennier nodded. Indeed, she did have a bond that went beyond the physical or even emotional. They were linked by an invisible bond. And if she said he was alive, he would accept it without question. Besides, Kosh was with him. Vorlons simply didn't die.

"We'll need breathing masks," Takashima said, and grabbing them from a side compartment tossed one first to Delenn and the other to Lennier before pulling one over her own face.

They unbuckled and headed out towards the dark red world.

* * *

Lyta didn't know if it was the fact that the Vorlon inside her simply heightened her senses (which it did). She didn't know if it had just been that long since it had happened (which admittedly it had). She wasn't sure if it was simply because she loved Zack that much (which she did). All she knew is she never felt so satisfied after sex as she did with Zack. Zack's naked body lay on top of her, fast asleep. And despite all the fun they'd had, she still felt the urge and drive for more intercourse.

She stroked his cheek, wishing it could last forever. But, no she had to go to work. Slowly she pushed him off her and leaning over to kiss his cheek, got out of bed and walked over to the shower they had in their apartment.

-Interesting.-

"What?" she asked the Vorlon as she stepped inside the shower. She never felt comfortable using his full name, it was far too long, but she had been given permission by the Vorlon to simply call him, 'Emperor', since once a man was Emperor, he always was, even if not in fact.

-I admit I am no virgin,- Constantine admitted, -But such passion and vigor I've never seen before.-

"Yeah?" she asked, turning on the water and allowing it to run down her naked body, the warm water feeling good, "Doesn't it embarrass you?"

-The Room takes no notice of what happens inside it.-

She frowned. "Whatever you say, Emperor," she said, "I love Zack."

-Listen you to nothing I say?-

"I know you said the Shadows did this to me," she admitted, "But I already loved him."

-The Devil also worketh through the truth when it suits him,- Constantine reminded her, -But it maketh it no less a lie.-

"I'm not Christian," she reminded him.

-An oak might not be redwood, but both are still trees.- he pointed out.

"What does trees have to do with anything?" she asked, scrubbing her body down with cheap soap that most likely would leave her skin dry.

-You must take care, little mother.- the Vorlon said.

"Oh, am I am your mother now?" she snorted.

-You are pregnant.-

"WHAT!"

* * *

They entered the capitol city of Za'Ha'Dum, the scorch marks of the nuclear blast turning every dark and the burnt smell still lingered. In many places, the Shadows had been burned into the stones themselves. They followed the corridor, looking for some sign of Sheridan. But, as they descended further and further, met by no resistance, they began to feel as if the whole city were dead.

They soon exited to a massive chamber, where there stood a massive throne. And sitting there was...Sheridan. They gasped and rushed forward, but he held up his hand.

"Welcome, my children," the voice said, but there was none of the warmth of Sheridan, "Welcome to Za'Ha'Dum. You come seeking for Captain John J. Sheridan?"

"Yes..." Takashima said, stepping in front of Delenn and Lennier as well, "Are you not him?"

The image shifted to look like Garibaldi. The figure snorted and spat on the ground. "He is not here," he replied, "Although he has left his legacy. Over three thousand of my subjects lay dead. It's like the Wiley Coyote finally got the Road Runner."

"Your subjects?" Lennier frowned, "Who are you?"

"I am the face of many," he said, his whole body changing and flashing before their eyes in a parade of facsimiles, "I am the one with many names. I am Lord of Shadows. King of Drakh . The Priest Before Many. I am the Changing Emperor. And you will all die for stepping foot on my citadel."

And from either side stepped out legions of warriors, carrying double bladed sword staffs. These were the elite guard of Za'Ha'Dum, the Remm^ton. They had been trained by the Red Warrior himself and some had been alive for over a thousand years. Lennier whipped his denn'bok from his pocket and extended it. Takashima pulled out her two PPG's. And Delenn turned and saw something approaching behind them.

"Look out!" she shouted, "Behind-"

Her blood curdled scream hit them all and Lennier turned to see a tall man vanish out of seeing, the air shimmering around him and Delenn collapsing, holding her stomach which was oozing blood. And now he knew that all visions come true.

* * *

Zack's eyes were wide as his wife told him the news. A...baby? A little Zack running around? Or a little Lyta? Lyta looked at him apprehensively, not sure how he would take the news.

"Are...are you sure?" he asked, "Wait...how can you be sure? We've only been married two months. How can you be pregnant already?"

"We have unprotected sex almost every night," she said, "So the chances were good we'd get a child."

He slumped back in his chair. A child? Really? No, it wasn't true. But...why would she make this up? Was he ready for a child? Wait, of course he was! Wait...no. He wasn't. Well, maybe. D-n, he didn't know! All these thoughts rolled together and fought for control. It overwhelmed him to the point that he did something he had never thought possible in such a situation.

"Why are you laughing?" Lyta asked horrified, her eyes growing wide.

"We're going to have a baby!" he laughed, slapping his knee, "We're going to be parents! Lyta, this is the most wonderful news I've ever heard! We are going to have a baby! Woo hoo!"

* * *

Takashima fell under the onslaught of the guards, first one arm flying off as the blade sank through and the follow up slash took out her leg. She collapsed, screaming in pain and terror as her PPG went flying. She fired off the last blast, killing her attacker but the next two rushed her and stabbed her through both breasts, killing her.

Lennier had Delenn slung over his shoulder, using his denn'bok to create a vertible wall of death as he forced himself past the Kilgrain assassin, beating him down and his two accomplices as they tried to flank him. He turned around to escape to the exit, when the edge of a blade chopped in front of him, shattering his breathing mask. He suddenly couldn't breathe, but knocked down the guard and ran as fast as he could, carrying Delenn as she bled all over his robes.

Out he ran, trying to hold his breath, but each step made his body try to release the breath he held with for dear life. Past emerging Shadows he ran, and soon he could see the light. A Shadow jumped in front to bar his passage he slammed his fighting pike across its head, shattering it with the force he hit the Shadow with and killing the Shadow. He threw Delenn between his arms after tossing aside his broken denn'bok and ran, tears streaming through his eyes.

He had to get to the shuttle. He had to get to the shuttle. Everything was getting a red haze and he suddenly gasped, the poisonous vapors entering his body. He coughed and hacked and stumbled but had to get to the shuttle. He had to get there. He was so close.


	6. The Vorlon's Choice

**Chapter 5: The Vorlon's Choice**

_Commander David Corwin - Personal Log: Today the new Vorlon Ambassador arrived. A completely ebony black fellow. He goes by the name "Vorcha". But, he immediately went into Council with the Vorlon High Command. I don't know what's going to happen, but I get the sense from this guy….well, not a sense. A feeling that we are about to jump headlong to something big._

* * *

Several days had passed since the shuttle carrying Delenn, Takashima and Lennier had gone out towards Za'Ha'Dum. Hundreds of ships had gathered around Zha'Valen'Venni, preparing for the offensive that was planned against the Shadows. Or, at least, so it was assumed. All Corwin knew was that Ivanova and himself now were the command structure. Marcus didn't count, seeing as he was in command of the Rangers.

Kulomani hadn't yet gotten back to full health, but he was on his way. Him and Daro would be promoted to something of Join-Commanders if Corwin had a say. They had been among the first to answer the call. And Marrago was a man of great talent. He could allow no resources to go to waste. But, with these Vorlons…he didn't know.

The Vorlons seemed to overshadow him. Like a man on a roof that survey's all below, he felt the Vorlons did that. He didn't trust the Shadows, but he wasn't sure about how he felt about the Vorlons. And that concerned him greatly.

He sat at his console, his legs propped up on top. He had been working for the past few days on dividing the fleet up between Daro, Kulomani and Marrago. Mixing the fleet up with some ships from each race serving underneath a commander would guarantee a new level of cooperation. He'd obviously be the overall commander of the fleet, with Susan Ivanova as his second. Now, he'd just have to figure out a plan to defeat the Shadows.

* * *

-An unexpected door has been opened.-

-How many have we lost?- Vorcha asked, although he feared the answer.

-Seven planets and two moons have been destroyed.- came the response.

He closed his eyestalk. His hexagonal encounter-suit not as elegant looking as some others. But, it looked in a way more rigid and more authoritative. As it should. He was the one that was tasked with the progress of the war. The main strategist. Unlike the High General who dealt with the combat side of the conflict, he was in charge of strategic planning and positioning.

And Commander David Corwin was in need of positioning and preparation. But, the Shadows had gone on a full-out offensive on Vorlons influenced worlds. So they were going to need to propel the war forward. It was going to have to or the war was going to be lost.

-It is time to unlock the weapon.-

-It is not yet time,- he argued, -The vassal is not yet converted.-

-We shall shake sky and earth with weapons of war. But the soul must be broken.-

He bowed his head. -As you command.-


	7. The Man Who Would be King

**Chapter 6: The Man Who Would be King**

Giramesh VII was a world of few resources. Perhaps only twenty thousand people lived on the planet, but they were content with their lives. Their villages were far and in between, and the small and few rivers were all that connected them. They had no means by which to become more advanced, but the game was plenty and the woods were full enough to provide them with their houses and boats to go fishing. Farming wasn't a major thing on the planet, but in the few places farming could be done, it was done with the dedication of those who were determined to see a failing project succeed.

They were ignorant of the stars and had no math. They had no legends or tales of great dead. Wars were unthinkable and crimes were non-existent. They were a simple people. A simple people who did to their benefit have a code of honesty and morals. Sex was taboo to speak of, even between couples. Children were seen as a promise of a future they had no prophecies for.

And there was bewilderment in their eyes when the sun began to darken. They looked up, expecting to see rain clouds overhead. But no, and it did not seem to be the moon in the sky mating with the sun in the bright of day. A great roar not unlike a waterfall could be heard, and thunder roared across the land, purple lightning flashing down in one streak towards the land. The ground began to quack with tremors and their screams were drowned out in the sound of the explosion that hit with such power that alone killed the populace, shattering eardrums and breaking bones. They didn't see the great flash of blinding white light that shot across the planet as it died, exploding.

They had done no crime, but among them were Shadows their bodies had not cast.

* * *

On the Vorlon Homeworld, the seven that made up the Vorlon High Command felt satisfaction as they felt the Shadow influence on a planet eradicated along with the population. Sure, they had known nothing they had done in crime. But, ignorance was also a sin.

Their puppet Corwin would soon launch his offensive, and with his help they would rid the galaxy of the scourge of the Shadows from the Galaxy. They brought only chaos to the galaxy, while the Vorlons offered peace and tranquility. And the Crystal Queen turned in her chamber to the Highest Priest, Golderan.

-The Time Has Come.- she commanded, -Activate our vassals.-

He bowed, his pure white encounter-suit turning away and gliding out of her chamber.

World after world after world heard the call. The minds of every telepath suddenly became overridden with a single command. _Obey us._ Lovers left their bewildered companion in the heat of the moment. _Obey us. _Workers dropped their tools and moved away. _Obey us._ Mothers and fathers abandoned their infants and children at the moments call. _Obey us._ Old men at their death beds struggled to rise, no thought of their impending deaths overshadowing them. _Obey us. _Doctors left their patients cut open in surgery and patients under anesthesia suddenly awoke and rose from surgeries and left. _Obey us. _Prisoners in the deepest cells dug into the walls, trying to dig their way out, sometimes using their own fingers.

Who could stop the Vorlons now? Millions of telepaths were enslaved to the will of the Crystal Queen. Who could defy them?

* * *

There was a stride that is given to those of great power. Those on a holy cause. One akin to a god. One such man walked through Za'Ha'Dum. And the Changing Emperor could sense a change. Something was happening in his domain. Nothing should be happening without his permission!

He felt out with his mind, feeling the thoughts of his servants as they fell back before a being clothed in immense power. The very thought of this being made him shake. And the man was advancing on his throne of all places! He summoned his guards to defend him, but they cowered as a being, glowing with power entered his throne room.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "What do you want with me?"

"YOURYOUrYOurYouryour THRONETHRONeTHROneTHRoneTHro neThronethrone," the being said, his voice bouncing throughout the chamber, "Your Empire Empire Your. It shall be mine, mine be shall it, mine be it shall."

"It's is mine!" the Changing Emperor shouted, summoning all his warriors on Za'Ha'Dum to protect him, and his rage encouraged them, "I am Emperor here! The Emperor of Many Faces! Lord of a Thousand Wars! And you shall die!"

The being raised his hand and with a massive blast of energy he was hit. He could feel himself being overwhelmed, and no matter what form he took, it was overwhelming him. He could not stop the attack, and he was so overwhelmed he couldn't assault it. His guards rushed out to defend their lord, but each one was shredded to pieces, eviscerated as white explosions tore through their chests.

And despite the defense of itself, the being had not relented on his assault on the Changing Emperor. Collapsing to his knees, he screamed as his power and essence was being drawn from him just as atom by atom he was scattered across the Throne Room. Then, with an explosion that sounded at one time both a whimper and the deafening roars of a thousand soldiers all dying at once, the Changing Emperor was destroyed.

Every atom was scattered all over the Chamber, but it was sucked into the being, wrapping him about in a cloud of white and dark matter. The power toned down, and the figure stepped up to the throne and those who cautiously peeked in could feel their wills being yoked to his mind. He was armored in an armor of both brilliant white and at his side was a sword, black and terrible to behold.

"Bow to your new master!" he shouted, and every knee across every planet of every vassal race of the Shadow Empire bowed down before the man who stood before them, "This day a new empire is born. The Terran Empire."


	8. Game of Minds

**Chapter 7: Game of Telepaths**

The chamber drained out the fluids, until nothing remained but a wet and slick surface. The chamber door opened slowly, and the tubes retracted from her punctured skin, healing itself almost immediately. Conciseness came to her mind and awareness and she dropped onto the floor, vomiting purple liquid from her body.

"Talia. Talia. Do you hear me?" a voice whispered, asking in a voice of infinite sadness and love. The voice of her father.

"Y-yes," she stammered, her voice soft and weak from un-use, "Who...who are you?"

"We are once what was called the Shadows," the voice whispered, "but we now go by the name Terran. Will you obey us?"

"What-what, what do you want with me?" she asked, feeling the ancient power of the voice in her mind, "How can I possible be of use to you?"

"The Ancient Enemy is moving," the voice said, and an image of searing light flashed through her mind, and in her weakened state all she could do was whimper at the pain, "They bring only enslavement. You must destroy them."

"How?" she whimpered, "I am nothing compared to their power?"

"We ask you not to attack the Vorlons themselves child," the voice caressed her thoughts soothingly, "But we ask only you destroy the telepaths that they have enslaved to their purposes. With them gone, you can sleep."

"Yes," she nodded, "I will do what I must. Whom shall I destroy first?"

"This woman," a face flashed in her mind, "She must be destroyed. Once she falls, the rest shall be easily dealt with."

"Why here?" she asked.

"Gingers have no souls," whispered the voice, and she felt the truth of the words.

* * *

He watched it as a man watches a moving train and can do nothing to stop it. He felt like the man from _Moby Dick_ whose Captain had set them on a path of destruction and could do nothing to persuade him to stop. It would have been one thing if he was in command of his senses.

But Alfred Bester was a prisoner in his own body. He had been too strong for the Vorlons to completely erase his mind and filled with the blessed light of the Vorlons. But, his ability to control his own body and abilities were gone. And he marched with hundreds of other telepaths, snuffing out the lives of Remnant forces sent to stop them. Any person who had so much felt a Shadow walk by was killed. Bester had always had dreams of leading his people to victory over the mundanes. But, as they marched forward and slaughtered, he suddenly realized how truly terrible it was.

Especially now. The Shadows had helped rebuild a hospital, and everyone in there was doomed to die. The doors flung open before him and three others and every person, doctor and petient alike were killed, their brains being turned into a form of jelly that they could see oozing from ears, nostrils and mouth. Mundane after mundane was slaughtered under the mindless assault. He could see the lifelessness in the eyes of young Chen, a boy of Asian descent who had looked upon him as an idol. And also in Jason Ironheart, who seemed as if a Nakleen feeder had sucked his soon out.

The door burst open to the nursery and he and his companions marched inside. He screamed at his body to stop as he stopped over the small bed with the dark skinned newborn. But, he could hear it in his body, over-riding the moral and ethics his body had been imposed with for years of life.

-All must pay for their crimes. Young, old and infants. There is no excuse for being influenced by the Shadows. None.-

* * *

-My people have gone mad with rage, Lyta.- the Emperor whispered to Lyta as she began feeling herself being overridden, -They are committing acts unthinkable. You must not obey this command.-

"I can't stop myself," she whimpered as she fought to stop from walking to the door, her whole body vibrating in the fight between her own will and the will of the Light of Order, "I'll do terrible things, and I cannot stop."

-God gave Adam Eve so he could lean on her strength.- The Vorlon said, making sense for once. -Use the strength of your better half to stop you.-

"How can I?" she cried, tears streaming down her face.

At that moment, the door burst open. Zack stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with confusion. He looked straight at her, seeing her inner struggle.

"I-heard a voice," he said, "It was...so powerful. It said you needed me."

"Whose voice was it?" she asked, stepping closer and closer, albeit unwillingly towards the door and the slaughter.

"It sounded like a man," he said, shaking his head, "But it couldn't be. It commanded respect."

"I...I'm being commanded to slaughter and kill," Lyta said, tears continuing to pour down her face, "And I can't stop myself."

He sprang forward and wrapping his arms around her lifted her off her feet and walking towards their couch sat her down and held her tight. Something happened then, where the will of the Vorlons slackened to a degree where they were barely heard. Although the urge was still there, it was bearable.

_Was this you're doing?_ she asked in her mind.

-Yes child- Constantine said.

_Why?_

-I never had a child before,- he admitted, -but you have become a daughter unto me. And I cannot allow your soul to be stained by such darkness. Hold him tight, Daughter. Hold him tight.-


	9. Removal of Power

**Chapter 8: Removal of Power**

He had been attacked by Shadows. He had fought Centauri. Humans in sewers. He had fought the personal guards of Emperors. Assassination attempts from other Narns. He would not be killed so easily.

He felt the ruins of the shuttle trying to pin him into place, but he wiggled free. As free as he could with blood gushing from where his eye had once been. His left eye had been stabbed by a piece of plastic from the chair in front of him, and the pain exploded in his eye. Every inch was met with pain, either the pinching of the falling roof and chairs, or the scrapping of skin as he slid over the broken dashboard, or the sudden snap of his ankle which sounded like a gun shot.

He could hear voices and hear and feel the crashed taxi shake as pieces of collapsed rubble were removed. He couldn't see very well in the ark, but soon he was beginning to see the surrounding brighten. He could feel the blood of the driver, her head crushed into a pulpy mass on the controls. But he wouldn't look. Not when he could feel a wave of nausea hit him.

The last rock lifted off the car and he could suddenly see daylight, although it was blinding. He had a hard time hearing what people were saying, but his own grunts of pain were loud in his ears.

"The Kha'Ri tried to kill me," he said, "They are fallen under the sleep of a human. And the attempt on my life was only the beginning. Soon they will move against everyone and everything we know."

* * *

Two weeks passed as he healed from his wounds, hiding in an old safe house from the old days. Back when he had been a rebel against the Centauri. But now, it was the Kha'Ri he had to worry about. But, they should have killed him while they had the chance. They'd get no chance to do it again.

He spent each day in heavy communications with all the Warleaders. As WarMaster he had quite a pull over everyone under his command. They heard his tale and saw his wounds. And he simply asked one question.

"Would you support me in the overthrow of the Kha'Ri?"

Three of them said no, they wouldn't but would fight him. Seven said they'd not help him but they wouldn't stop him. And twelve said they would assist in his coup d'état. But, he would never be successful if the people weren't on his side.

Patriarchs and Town Elders met with him. They saw the evidence he had gathered (he hadn't lived through so much by not having eyes and ears in the Council Chambers. And no few rallied to his side. Soon, most of Narn had rallied to his cause.

Fifteen days had passed, and now was the time. The military took swift control of the skies and the populace moved in against the Kha'Ri. Without Sebastian or the Vorlons aid, the Kha'Ri resorted to their own troops setting up the rioters, which only enflamed the passion inside every Narn.

All day and all night they besieged the Council Chambers, and they destroyed the escape tunnels that had been secret. But, G'Kar had made the tunnels. Dawn was rising red and ugly when he stepped under the lynched bodies of the Kha'Ri. He strode forward, his knee mostly healed. But his eye could not be salvaged, and so he wore an eye-patch.

There before him was the raised dais of the First Councillor. SLowly he ascended the steps and turning, sat down.

"I am G'Kar, he shouted to his gathered followers, "Grand Master of the Narn Regime! And we have much work to do. We must find and destroy that slimy weasel of a human Sebastian.


	10. And Now for a Word

**Chapter 9: And Now for a Word**

"This is Dan Randall reporting live from the Governmental offices in New Geneva," the reporter on the viewscreen said, the crowd pressing around him, "After weeks of telepathic warfare upon anyone and everything, the question must be asked. Is this simply a madness that has gripped out telepathic brother and sisters that will take time to cure? Or is this finally the war we've been dreading? And if it is the war we've been dreading, why hasn't President Clark taken a more proactive approach to the situation?"

"Mute," Clark snapped at the viewscreen and the sound went silent.

He was doing his best in such a critical time. But he didn't like using force on so many people. Yes, one or two here and there that were politically incompatible with his world views and agenda. Yes, the shop keeper who posted offensive signs, or the child that wrote incorrect things in chalk on the sidewalk. But this large a group?

He knew what Morden would say. "Use extreme force." And he already had taken to it. He wondered if these telepaths were Moden's doing. It seemed his style.

He stood up and walked to the office window, and looked out upon the crowds gathered. Reports indicated that the strongest concentration of telepaths in the Remnant were here in New Geneva. And the sheer volume of telepathic crime was evident of that.

No, he didn't want to do what must be done. But with his Vice President also having been killed by her telepathic husband only yesterday, he realized there needed to be something done. And he knew what it was. He strode to the door and opening it stepped out into the hallway, his Security personnel falling in behind him. And he headed towards the subway shaft that led towards his personal car that would leave New Geneva and head for Nova Moscow.

_Let it not be said that Clark fiddled while Geneva burned_, he thought to himself.

* * *

"Hello again."

There was little time for Corwin to sit down and eat as commander of the Alliance. When he was awake he was directing the flow of supplies arriving at the fleet which now was over two hundred ships strong. When he wasn't doing that, he was settling disputes between the crews of the fleet. When he wasn't doing that, he was in council meetings with leaders of the alliance and the fleet. When he wasn't doing that, the Vorlons would summon him.

So, he was barely able to get one meal a day. Many days, he'd have to eat on the move, having sandwiches in his hand. But, the few times he did get to sit down and have a meal, he'd take it. And it had just so happened he caught Franklin during one of his odd lunch breaks. So, they had talked about the old days, reminiscing about times gone and friends lost.

They looked up at Julie Musante as she stood before the table, a plate in her hands of food.

"Please have a seat," David said, gesturing to the chair.

She looked uncomfortably at Franklin but deciding to just go for it, she said, "I was wondering if you'd consider having dinner with me tonight."

"Sure," he shrugged, "What time?"

"How about 1900?" she asked, "At my place?"

"Sounds good," he said, "You can sit down with us. We don't bite."

She shook her head, "I've got to get some reports done and I do it best on my own. See you later David."

"See you Julie," he said, nodding to himself as she walked off. A silence fell upon the table as Franklin glanced at his friend.

"Seems a nice girl," he suggested, watching his friends reaction, "Wonder how she is in bed."

"Wouldn't know," David replied, not really paying him any mind.

"You'll let me know how it turns out, I'm sure," Franklin said with a smirk.

"Yes, of course Doctor," he said, not realizing what he was agreeing too.

* * *

Marrain stood in the rubble of what had been the Imperial Palace in Tuzanor. Imagine that so much death and destruction had come from hate. Hate and a need for revenge. Humanity had turned their backs on the Minbari after destroying Minbar and after Marrain had given them back the Sol System.

But, as he stood in the ruins, he felt the oppressive weight that he was responsible for what had happened. If he had been a bit more vocal during the first war in his opposition...if he had had more backbone. He was as responsible for the destruction of his world as General Thompson was.

How could he have allowed himself to trust that dark-skinned human? Was he really so blind and arrogant as to think he could over-power the basic need for revenge by sheer will of personality? Yes, he had been blind. And of the five billion people living on Minbar, nearly four billion had been made blind for all time, never to see until they were reborn in the next generation.

How he wished Neroon was here. But no, he was with the fleet at Kah'Markab, under the command of the Brakiri general Kulomani. No, he was here alone, with the nine Caste and clan rulers that had followed him into this war.

Minbar needed to be rebuilt. But he could not lead the Minbari people. Too much blood was on his hands. A new Grey Council needed to be formed. One not floating among the stars above their people. But people willing to work and do their duty.

-Your thoughts are open to me.- came the harsh whisper of the Vorlon Ulkesh. -Your plans are as bare as a snail out of his shell.-

"I suppose you are glad I am stepping down," he said, placing a hand on the only pillar that remained standing and turning his back on the Vorlon.

-You must not.- the Vorlon commanded.

"Why?" he asked, staring at the ruined cities and streets, the smell of the dead unwashed despite their efforts.

-Justice has not been satisfied- the Vorlon explained, -The war continues.-

"Your war means nothing to me," he replied, feeling a sense of malevolence rising from the Vorlon. He gripped his denn'bok tight, feeling his warriors sense tingling.

-You will lead your people to the death they deserve and are worthy only of.- Ulkesh announced, -And you shall lead them. Through us.-

"I am not your puppet," he replied, walking away from the Vorlon.

-You shall not leave this place!- the Vorlon bellowed and he twirled around as the encounter-suit opened and the Vorlon began to rise. He pulled his denn'bok from his hand and extended it, positing it in front of him. -Your resistance to us is useless, small warrior.-

"Freedom of choice is mine and granted by the Vorlons!" he shouted, the Vorlon rising fully from his encounter-suit.

-There is only one choice.- the Vorlon reminded him. -Ours.-

Marrain tried to avoid the Vorlon and he swung as hard as he could. His denn'bok met little resistance as it passed through the Vorlon. Before he knew it, he was thrown against the far wall, every bone in his back and neck breaking. But, he could feel the warmth of the Vorlon as it entered inside of him. His mind shouted, enraged at this violation. But soon his mind was completely erased, leaving only the will of the Vorlon. Every bone was fused and healed and soon, Marrain arose from the ground.

No, not Marrain. Ulkesh and he at once sent his will through all of Minbar. Every Minbari was soon filled with one purpose. One voice spoke in their minds, erasing their free will. Worker, Religious and Warrior alike. From the oldest male to the youngest newborn. The last march to war was about to befall the Minbari people.


	11. Bane of Kings

**Chapter 10: Bane of Kings**

"The war has shifted dramatically," the Centauri agent said, sitting across the table from the man that had summoned him, "There's been a political shake-up in the Shadows."

"How so?" the man asked.

The Centauri shrugged, "First off they no longer call themselves the Shadows. They go off the name 'Terran Empire' or something like that. Also, some reports suggests that their leader was killed by an usurper."

The man frowned. Clearly he was disturbed by the news. What could have possibly happened? If the Shadows were so powerful, how had their leader been overthrown? There was too much that was odd and strange about all this.

"Have you had any word from any of the Minbari agents?" he asked.

The agent shook his head, "There hasn't been a word in three days. There's also that whole thing going on with the telepaths. The galaxy is burning."

"Thank you for your detective work in that regard," the man snorted, "Just make sure you do what needs to be done."

The agent nodded, and standing up, drew his cloak over his head and snuck out of the back door. The man leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day, and too much was at stake. And he knew what would have to be done. No, he didn't want to do it. It seemed cruel and not right. Does two wrong make a right? He doubted it.

His pregnant wife stood at the doorway to the bedroom, smiling expectantly at him. Oh, if there was only more time in the day! Now, it was compounded even more so when a voice spake from in front of him.

"Well, well. The leader sleeps while his kingdom burns."

* * *

Cartagia whistled a happy tune as he stepped inside the cell. The stench of blood made him swim in ecstasy, and he looked at the prisoner, hanging from the chains which held his arms above his head, his toes barely touching the ground. He looked at the bloody mess on the floor, two women they had once been, but drawn and quartered, the pain technician slowly sorting out strips of flesh as they were slowly peeled off the bodies.

"Do not look so glum, Mollari!" Cartagia patted his friend on the cheek, "Patience. The overseer of our fair planet arrives tomorrow! You shall live to see him, and then you shall die the death. A sad business really. But do not fret, your two wives shall meet you on the other side."

"I'd-" Mollari struggled past his dry throat, "Live then...see them...waiting for me."

Cartagia laughed, "My dear friend," he pinched his cheek, "You have always done right. Like my friend Vir Cotto. He shall be made a God one day! One day, and I shall be there for his ascension. You, however, shall dissolve into the nothingness that awaits all the unfaithful."

Mollari said nothing, but coughed again. Cartagia laughed and patted the man, his skin torn from lashes and knives. Yes, the blood did smell good. But, there was no time for that.

"I am sorry you did not see fit to see it my way," he said, moving to the door, "You shall die slowly, I promise you that."

Out into the darkened corridors he walked, only a slight illumination from the lights. Rain was pouring across Centauri Prime. Sure, it only fell on the city and a couple miles surrounding, but there was no Centauri Prime where he wasn't personal at. A wind blew the curtains and he could feel droplets flying through.

"Guards!" he said, as a painting was knocked off one of the walls after a particularly heavy blast of wind, "Tie down that curtain. I don't want anything knocked over."

They moved off to follow his orders and he sat there, alone. "Hello," a voice spoke behind him, "How's it going?"

He turned to see who it was and he saw Vir walking down the corridor after him, rubbing his left arm with his right hand. His smile grew wide and he beckoned him forward.

"Well, well," he clapped his hands, "If it isn't Vir Cotto? Join me for a drink?"

"I'd love to," he nodded, and then waving to the guards on their way back to him, "Are the guards invited?"

"Of course they aren't," Cartagia said, walking up to his friend and sliding an arm around Vir's shoulders. His other arms he held behind his back. "But, I will let you in a little secret."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I know you what you have done," he whispered and Vir gasped in pain as the dagger penetrated his side.

Vir grunted as the blade twisted and was pulled out, blood dripping on the floor from the blade. The two guards moved forward, but two flashes of lightning illuminated the hall, and once they could see, only two piles of ashes were where the guards had been. Cartagia snorted.

"Did you really think I wouldn't know you're whole part in the plot to overthrow me?" he asked, dancing around, scratching Vir with deft swipes of the blade, Vir grunting as the skin was broken. "You wish a drink?" he asked, kicking Vir hard in the back.

Vir collapsed to the floor, coughing and turned as Cartagia lifted a flask from his side and opened it. Cartagia lifted it and poured it on his face. Vir spluttered as it got all over him. What was this foul stuff?

"This is a special drink," Cartagia said, upending the flask and taking a deep draught from it, "It's made using an ounce of every Centauri I've killed since becoming Emperor. It has made me strong, as I drink in their life blood to mine. You will add a small part to my power Vir. Too bad you cannot enjoy the fruits of your labor."

Cartagia bent down and grabbing Vir pulled his up, jamming his blade between the slots of one of Vir's tentacles. Vir squirmed and squealed in pain as it caused his privates to hurt. Cartagia laughed as he dug the blade deeper and deeper. Vir would die.

Cartagia gasped in pain as Vir thrust the needle between his hearts and within seconds everything began to get fuzzy. Cartagia became frantic, pulling the blade out and stabbing Vir frantically in the stomach, stabbing and slashing.

"I am a God!" he screamed, collapsing sideways to the floor, the poison burning inside him, "You cannot stop me! I will-burn this-planet. Why? Why did you do this Vir?"

"Centuari Prime is worth more than either of us," Vir said, the pain excruciating from his slashed abdomen.

Cartagia died, a smile on his face. No matter what happened, he would win. Watching all this had been a small man. Minister Virini glanced around, and seeing no guards and that Cartagia was fully dead, hurried to Vir.

"Come now," he said, pulling Vir to his feet, Vir holding his guts in with his hand, "We must hurry. Yes, yes. We must leave at once."

"What about..." Vir squeezed his eyes, "Mollari."

"Oh no," he shook his head, his eyes wide, "He must wait. You must not be around for the guards to arrive."

They hurried from the place, and soon the guards arrived, having heard a commotion. And they found Cartagia dead, a pool of blood next to him.


	12. King and Queen of the Empire

**Chapter 11: King and Queen of the Empire**

February of the year 2261 came to a close, but it seemed to pass by in a time where no passage of that finicky thing was at all discernible. It was not hard for the Light and Dark Emperor to understand the appeal of such power. It seemed as if mere days had passed, and not weeks. He could almost reach his hand out from Za'Ha'Dum and cause entire stars to wink out of existence at the wave of a hand. He seemed to have ample amount of power endowed.

But, he had other duties closer to home. There could be no help for the human woman, but the dead Anla'Shok and human-Minbari hybrid could be saved. He sent his servants forward and they hurried onto the field with the thin and toxic air. They had to be saved.

They were brought inside the city and Zener scientists went to work healing the bodies of the fallen. Soon, enough they were on their feet, awaiting some final doom. They were lead to the throne room, where the Emperor was sitting.

"Welcome my friends," he said, his cloud of light and dark creating an aura of mystery around him, "The Shadows are under new management. I am the new Emperor, and I have seen that only through uniting the races can we defeat the Vorlons."

"Unity does not befit the Shadows," Delenn shook her head, "You bring only war are destruction wherever you go."

"In the past true," the Emperor said, leaning back in his chair, "But I think you shall find that my rule is based upon order. True order, and not the imposed order of the Vorlons. The Vorlons would offer no choice. If you fail to obey, they send forth Inquisitors, such as Sebastian to punish and break. True order is the freedom to choose what is right and wrong."

"And if you choose wrongly?" Lennier demanded, "You will also punish them."

"Why Mr. Lennier," he chuckled, "You make me laugh. No, but I do believe that wrong choices should not be allowed to hurt others."

"And what if we choose to leave?" Lennier asked, "will you hold us here?"

"There will be no stopping of your leaving," the Emperor said, "Since technically that is not a choice that can harm others."

Lennier and Delenn looked at each other, not quite sure what to think of this Emperor. He made...sense. Much more so that the changing Emperor. But, why should they trust him? He had nothing to offer them that would be at all remotely interesting.

"I can hear your doubts," he chided them, "But no matter. Need you proof? Then bring forth the child."

A servant stepped from behind the throne, carrying a small bundle. He handed him to his Emperor with bowed head. He stood slowly and walked down the steps, child in his arms. The closer he got, the less brilliant his cloud was, and they could begin to see the form of the man. Then, as he stepped up to them and stood before them, the shadow was pulled from their eyes and they could see him.

"No..." Lennier whispered, "It can't be?"

"We fought the Shadows," Delenn trembled, "You cannot be him."

"It is me Delenn," Sheridan said, standing before them, in pure white armor, "My eyes have been opened Delenn. And look, our son."

She looked at the child as he moved behind her and held him up for her to see. No, it couldn't be. She recoiled from him slightly. It couldn't be. He was dead.

"You are afraid of this being possible," he commented, "But it is real. I know you feel it inside. I was saved, by the Eldest. He brought me back from the death. And he filled my mind with the truth. Delenn, I have always known the Vorlons were not to be trusted. Since I visited the Oracle. But, they are not right. The Shadows aren't either."

"But you lead them?" she raised an eyebrow, "That does not seem to say you believe them to be wrong."

"I lead them because it's the only way to defeat the Vorlons," he retorted, "The Shadows would only have us bicker until they felt the deed was done and withdrew. Ten years at the most. But, they would always come back. But the Vorlons, if they win, they will impose their order for a thousand generations, until none can understand what freedom is. Not only that, but there are worse factions out there on the move. And the Shadows and Vorlons make it impossible to be ready for them."

"John would not talk like this," she said, head held high, "I won't believe you."

"But you will," he waved his hand before her, and any desire to resist vanished, "Together we can conquer the Galaxy, Delenn. Liberate it from those who would seek to destroy and imprison. My Empire desire not conquest. But to safe guard the innocent."

"And what about me?" Lennier demanded angrily, seeing Delenn being possessed by his power, "If I say no, will you possess me to?"

Sheridan shook his head. "No, my dear friend," he smiled warmly, "Go thine own way if needs be. But I will always wish for your service and your friendship."

Lennier turned around and stormed out of the Throne Room. He was stopped by none as he fled. He did not see the will-less Delenn being taken advantage of on the Throne Room floor. Nor did he feel her joy at immediately becoming pregnant with her own child. Nor did he see the tall mirror, where an alien looked down. Not Lorien, but one of great malice that had bound the Eldest.


	13. Whatever did Mr Garibaldi Find?

**Chapter 12: Whatever Did Mr. Garibaldi Find?**

The planet was a dead world, no vegetation, no living beings, nothing. Not even the ruins of a fallen civilization. The planet had no name in the Younger Races massive files of databanks and data entries. Not even in legend had it ever mentioned. Except once, long ago. It's name was Kolob, or so the legends spoke. A planet nearest the realm of the Gods and the Gods, living on no planet of their own, looked upon Kolob and determined their time by the planet's rotation around it's sun. And a year in its time was a thousand years by the reckoning of the Children of Earth.

But, when whispered word of something happening on this planet reached the ears of Michael Garibaldi, his naturally suspicious nature led him to action. Gathering a small team of Anla'Shok who were not needed in the immediate future, even as war raged across their section of the galaxy, they went off towards this nameless planet. Garibaldi had lost all contact with Alfred Bester, and had no news of the goings on of Epsilon Eridani.

But, there was little the Anla'Shok knew that he didn't know as well. He knew of some political shake up in the Shadows, who seemed to bear a new name, Terran Empire. He also knew that the telepaths all across the galaxy had been turned into mindless weapons and they were churning the galaxy into a carnal house, slaughtering everything touched by those who he preferred to still call Shadows. He also knew of the massive planet killers being thrown at each other by the two sides and the untold millions of deaths already having occurred from that.

However, for all the knowledge that the Rangers brought in, there was one thing they all knew but disregarded. Every sentient race in the Galaxy had a legend. A legend that spoke of dark forces, demons that tried to conquer the galaxy. But they were thrown down, cast out of heaven, or however the story went. But they always spoke of the defeat of the demons and their desire, hatred for the light and their desire to return and claim their place as Gods by usurping the Gods that were there.

Even the Vorlons had such a legend. An if they had such a legend, it must have been an ancient and most powerful force indeed. But, it was simply legends. And legends do not deal with facts. Myths do not depend upon facts. Rumors are not necessarily true.

As Garibaldi and company landed on the planet, near some dead volcanic vents, they forgot the most basic and most true of all facts about legends and myths and rumors. They all are based upon truth. Skewed or not, the facts do exist. Even if they are buried, they do exist.

"It's pretty dark down there," the Anla'Shok of the Religious caste said, "Our lights do not pierce the dark very far. Do you still want to go down?"

Garibaldi nodded without hesitation. "Do you really think there is any danger?" he asked, "I mean, you were the one reporting something might be going on."

"I'm not sure _what_ exactly is going on," he replied.

"So let's tether out lines and repel down the shaft then," Garibaldi said, and they began to tether their carabineers to the lines and their belts, "And we all will need to turn on our lights. Use the infrared setting on your goggles."

Soon they were beginning to descend into the abyss of darkness that seemed to swallow them up. Even with the night vision goggles though with infrared settings were seeing very little, even of the wall face as they bounced off the rock face using their feet and swung down. But, they continued further and further down, and while they kept getting a pretty even rock face, they never knew if their next step would be their last one.

_Hopefully our lines will be long enough_, Garibaldi thought grimly to himself as he felt the rope reaching close to the last bit of it.

Just then, they landed on the bottom, and Garibaldi felt his back land hard on the ground. He heard the grunts of the Anla'Shok as they also hit the bottom. Probably should have kept looking down.

"I think we found the bottom," he commented, much to the chagrin of all involved.

They collected themselves and as Garibaldi turned around, he spotted a small glow of light which lit up the infrared. He turned off his night vision goggles and looking out, saw that while it was far away, he saw that the massive underground stretched out far and wide. And at the far end of the cavern, illuminated by a pulsating light on top, was a pyramid.

"I thought this planet had no civilization on it," Garibaldi stated.

"There isn't," another of the Rangers said, "At least, not that we know of or have ever seen before."

Garibaldi grunted. "Best bring in a new team of archeologists then," he said, "They'll be thrilled to prove all you wrong. Shall we take a look around?"

Without waiting for an answer, he set off towards the pyramid.

* * *

There was no name for it. Not in the way mortals understood such things. Even the First born of galaxies were mere mockeries of the power and longevity it had. It knew the creators off all the galaxies that had been wrought into existence. And there was nothing special about it. Just they were able to stroke the embers off the big bangs. How else did one really think it came about?

Sciences of even the most advanced civilizations had been disproved and replaced with equations that far outweighed even the most brilliant of minds of mortals. It feared nothing. Nothing except the race of Gods that thrust it out of the universe into the dimension. Not that which was called Third Space. Those aliens, hungry though they were, and powerful Gods of Death in their own right, were misfits. No, they existed in what one could call Fourth Space. The veil was so strong at times, and yet, the eons had eroded away the veil. It had broken forth last year, grasping at the first thing it saw, the irrelevant space ships of a backwards civilization.

No, the Great God as he was called was ready to open the doorway and allow his hosts through. But, not yet. It needed minds to spread it's call. Spread the doctrine of death and assimilation it brought. Resistance was not only futile, it was self-destructive.

And here it could feel, marching near the gates of its prison, minds. Simple, fragile. But, they would serve. Not like the Eldest, who had taken much mental battle to control.

* * *

Garibaldi stepped up the stairs, each step seeming to sing a song. A song for the soul. And it was depressing. Sickening. Thoughts dark that none should ever think were slowly creeping into his mind. And he could feel the others being also affected. But, now they could not step aside. They had to go up the steps. So close now.

They were now at the top of the stairs, and beyond they could see a swirling vortex of darkness between two pillars of the blackest obsidian. It beckoned them forward. Closer they stepped, and before the gate stood a man, wearing the robes of a priest, torn and shredded as if by his own fingers and by the changes of time. In his hand was a staff, with a clawed hand, with an eyeball on it that swerved to see them.

They looked upon it, a purple and black fire lighting up its eye sockets, for there was no eyes. It's long three fingered hand raised up, drawing symbols in the air that lit with a brilliant fire. It spoke not with words they understood, but the understood it all the same.

"Son of Adam and Sons and Daughter of Milboroth," it spake, whispering the names of the first born of their races, "At long last you find your way to the gateway. The tomb of which your true gods have been cast into. Condemned never to return."

For some reason such words made their hearts ache with heartbreak. Did not the Great God only want them to be saved? Did he not simply want to remove the burden of decision? He and his angels of darkness were not wicked, but misunderstood. Jealous Gods had bansihed them, for they wished them not to succeed in the end.

"Oh," it whispered soothingly, "do not fret, my pets. The Great God will use you to spread the doctrine across all known space. Pave the way for his return. His kingdom shall be known, as it was in old. And this precious Daughter of Milboroth shall bear children that are filled with the understanding of the Gods."

"Oh please," the only female Anla'Shok begged on her knees, tears spilling freely, "What name does it go by? What shall we know the kingdom by?"

"It has but one name," the Priest nodded, "And it is a simple name. It is: The Hand."


	14. Number One to Return

**Chapter 13: Number One to Return**

When was the last time anyone had been to Earth? Roughly fourteen years had passed since any humans had stepped upon the birth place of humanity. But, one of the provisions of the Human-Minbari Treaty was a complete Minbari withdrawal from the Sol System. And once they were gone, Humans would begin to move into their abandoned colonies and home world. No matter the civil war going on back home, with GROPOS fighting GROPOS on Epsilon 4 or space battles between opposing forces, Clark felt it was needful to start establishing a human presence within the Sol System. Partially it was to boost morale to the people, long devoid of any true hope, even the defeat of the Minbari and the blasting apart of Minbar had done little to change the mood of the masses.

But, few realized it, but Clark was wanting to return to Earth as soon as possible, to establish his government there. He had plans for the masses of telepaths and their cronies on Epsilon 3.

Not a person of the Human Remnant transport ship _Odysseus_, cared much about the reasons why. They were just excited, many of them having been born without ever seeing the birth-place of humanity. Usually their leader would have been forceful in getting them to sit down and control themselves, especially the children as they ran up and down the aisles lane. But, Tessa Holloran was simply grateful she was out of the Epsilon System.

But, not saying she cared much for Earth. She was Mars-born. And while she had always been treated like a second-class citizen because of that, she had always been pretty good about it. One of the reasons she thought she was being sent here though, was because she was too important a person to simply vanish. She had been an actress of popular entertainment that was known sympathizer for those against Clark and his regime. So, instead of killing her, Clark was basically deporting her to Earth to head up the colonization efforts.

She looked again at the document of where they'd be setting up. Yes, that was right. William Clark had been born in St. Louis, Missouri, of the American State. And so, it was going to be in St. Louis they'd begin the rebuilding of their historic and ancestral homeland. Her and all three hundred people on board.

_Lucky me_.

"_This is your friendly Captain Jack speaking_," a voice said over the ships intercom, "_We are coming up on Earth Hyperspace Beacon. Please take a seat, buckle up and enjoy the return to Earth_."

She looked up as excited voices seemed to cut through her fog of concern and she watched as the hyperspace lane opened, the vortex shooting them out into normal space. And there, just like a jewel, was Earth.

Humanity had returned home.

* * *

Mr. Morden stepped past the row of telepaths as they were gunned down. Their hands had been tied and their eyes blind-folded. The troopers that gunned them down were among Night Watch, wearing black helmets that he wondered if the tint in the visors made it hard to see. Night Watch was currently battle the terrorists and telepaths, and while they were out-numbered and out-gunned, they had managed to stem the tide. Even these mindless automatons that had been taken over by the Vorlons.

What was the saying? "Breeding will tell"? It certainly did with how easily they had been completely taken control of. That's one of many things Telepaths did not know about themselves. The Vorlons had imbedded in their genetic coding what could be called, 'Dead Switches'.

But, he had more important business to attend to. He entered the Governmental office, long since vandalized by rioters, and entered the secret turbolift. Down he descended into the lower sections, and soon he was out and headed towards living quarters. He soon reached the door and it opened, and he stepped inside.

"How are you today, Talia?" he asked.

"I'm..." she nodded her head slowly, "Good. For the most part. I just can't believe it. To have had a child but it to be still-born."

"It was an unforeseeable event," he said to her soothingly. He dare not tell her that the child had been dissolved after her emergence from the chamber and all that power had been added to her own telepathic abilities, "Do you feel you can now go out and hunt down the super telepath? Or do you need time to rest still?"

Talia closed her eyes, the soft red lights not showing her anguish at her loss. "I guess there is no time like now," she said, "Especially since I don't _have_ a reason not to do as you've asked. I have no child."

Morden sighed and hesitated before answering. This caught her attention. She looked up at him.

"What?" she asked.

"I..." he shook his head, "No, forget it."

"No," she said, looking at him, "Tell me."

"I don't think it's-" Morden could continue as he was thrown against a wall, telepathic and telekinetic power pushing him up against it, a great force pushing upon his chest and shoulders.

"You will answer my question," she demanded, "What are you talking about."

Morden felt as if the air was being pushed out of him. "Do you think it's any coincidence?" he asked with a grunt, "That the moment you are brought out that your child was killed? The Vorlons have the ability to transfer conciseness from one body to another. The Vorlons have granted this uber-telepath with your son's soul. And we do believe it to be a woman, pregnant with her own child. She now carries your child."

The scream of rage and horror from Talia made the wall shatter around him and he was thrown out against the wall. As the rage tore inside Talia Winters Bester, he could not help but cower. Cowering to hide his smug smile of triumph.


	15. Oath of the Anla'Shok

**Chapter 14: Oath of the Anla'Shok**

Marcus Cole stood before the gathered Anla'Shok in the main audience chamber. The Entil'Zha from Valen on down to Lennon looked down upon him and the Anla'Shok. It was time for the Rebirth Ceremony. Too much had already been sacrificed in this war. Unlike regular Minbari, the Anla'Shok were not influenced by Ulkesh, since they were already part of the war effort against the Shadows.

The attack on Minbar had also caused much stress between the Humans and Minbari on the station. Marcus had pitched the idea of the ceremony to Corwin, and he, while skeptical if it would do any good, decided to play along. So, not only Anla'Shok, but also Humans were there as well, and he placed them so beside every Minbari was a human, and by every human was a Minbari.

"Will you follow me into fire?" he asked the ritual question, holding his hands up, the white robes all around, flowing like soft snow around the mountain, "Into storm? Into darkness? Into death?"

Those were the questions that were asked before any Minbari entered the service of the Anla'Shok, the Rangers of Valen. It was not an easy life, to be one of the Anla'Shok. Warrior, yet priest. Destroyer, yet builder. Killer, yet healer.

"And the nine said, 'Yes'," Marcus said, and from beside him walked priests, holding bowls with small red berries. It was important part of the ritual.

"Then do this in testimony to the one who will follow," Marcus said, although who was to follow? It had been Sheridan, but with his death, who would rally against the Darkness? "Who will bring death couched in the promise of new life and renewal disguised as defeat."

"From birth, through death and renewal. You must put aside old things, old fear, old lives," a necessity for the Anla'Shok. Their old lives were nothing if it could not be put aside for the whole.

"This is your death," he said, as he watched the red berries being taken from the bowls. One berry per person. "The death of flesh, the death of pain. The death of yesterday."

Marcus grabbed the berry from the bowl before him, rasing it to his lips in the ritual symbolism. "Taste of it and be not afraid," he spoke, "For I am with you to the end of time. Taste of it."

He waited until he saw the group lift the berries to their mouth and place it in and eat it. He then ate the one he himself had. The berry was very waxy in texture, not like most Earth berries he had enjoyed as a child. But, the importance lay not in the texture, but in the symbolism.

"And so," he said, "It begins."

* * *

"It was an interesting ritual," Franklin said, sitting across the table from the others, "Do you really think it'll help bind us closer, Marcus?"

"Yes, I do," Marcus said, "Especially with the second and third parts of the ceremony."

"And those are?" Corwin asked, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the table top.

"First, we must give up something we care about," Marcus explained, "Whether it be a grudge, some fancy thing or what have you. It just has to be something we cling to desperately."

"Interesting," Corwin said, "Especially since we don't have a lot to give up here."

Marcus nodded knowingly. "Oh," he shrugged, "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

Franklin passed a glance to Corwin, who shrugged. Whatever the man said. This was his ritual afterall, and he had invited him in. So, it was his show.

"What's the last step?" Corwin asked.

"We must tell a secret," the Anla'Shok said, "and not just the simple ones, like 'I took that cookie'. But the ones we tend to hide from each other. And obviously you don't tell just anyone. No, you tell a friend."

Franklin frowned. "What's significant about that?" he asked, "Wouldn't it just make the person embarrassed?"

"You forget Doctor," Corwin interjected, "That secrets are what binds friends together. Strengthens their bonds. I'd think you as a Doctor would know such things."

Franklin chortled. "I heal the body," he said, "Not the mind."

"Well," Corwin said, stretching his back out, "You guys do whatever you want. As for this secret and giving away business, I think I can do something about that."

* * *

Corwin stood before the garbage disposal unit on _Zha'Valen'Venni_. In his hand, he held a picture of Elizabeth Lochley. How had things gone so wrong between them? Wasn't the heart supposed to not know boundaries? Politics had no sway on love? He didn't know why he kept the picture. Perhaps it was because it showed him happy, and her happy. Yes, he knew of her relationship with Captain Sheridan in the past. But that had been in the past.

As was his relationship.

Not that he was devoid of options. In fact, he knew he had feelings for Julia. But, it didn't make it any harder to let go of the past. But, bracing himself by taking a deep breath, he shoved it into the garbage disposal and sent it off into the garbage recycling system. And, as soon as it was gone, he felt strangely better.


	16. Movements of Terror and Light

**Chapter 15: Movements of Terror and Light**

The Selvan moved through the streets of Centauri Prime, the night serving them best. Their magical power bestowed upon them by a greater power, whether it be Gods or not was of no concern, allowed them to be able to see best the pattern of movements in the night. There were three, a holy number for the task they had been sent to perform. Cartagia's death had been unfortunate. But, Sebastian had made it clear it was of no concern.

However, the laws of the Vorlons abhorred the absence of punishment for crimes committed. This planet, and all its inhabitants were now subjects of the Vorlon Empire, and no matter the war that raged across the entire galaxy, order had to be maintained. They knew Vir Cotto was behind the death of Cartagia, if the pool of blood proved correct.

A week had passed, and still they could not find him. Slippery, that one. Sebastian knew he was getting help, and that the terrorists would continue to deny the will of the Vorlons. But, there were other ways of smoking out rabbits from their holes.

* * *

Lyndysty screamed as the pain tore through her. How could she possible have imagined this much pain would be involved? Another spasm of pain shot through her stomach and she screamed out.

"Very good, dear," the midwife said, "You just need to push a little more."

"What do you think I'm doing?" she screamed at the midwife.

"Now push, push, push!" the midwife instructed.

"Shut up!" she yelled, giving her exhausted body one last push.

Ten hours. Ten hours of intense pain and labor. How was it possible for a body to endure so much? But, just as she wept, her tears mingling with her sweat that drenched her, she could suddenly hear the tiny wails of the child.

"Oh look," the midwife said, wiping it gently with cloth towels and the midwife's assistant cutting the imbecile cord with a knife, "It's a girl!"

Lyndysty, her body trembling from the ordeal of the delivery, eagerly accepted her new daughter into her arms. Oh, how precious she was! So tiny, too pretty to take after her. Why, she looked a tad bit like Vir, poor child.

"She's perfect," she smiled, cradling the child and soothing it from its own pain and terror at suddenly being removed from the comfort and all it had know, "If only Vir was here."

"Did you a name picked for her?" the midwife asked, moving to the sink and beginning to wash her arms off of the bodily fluids that covered her arms and hands.

"We hadn't decided yet," she said, not looking away from the child. She wanted to engrave the moment in her memories, "We actually believed it to be a boy!"

"I am sure whatever name you decide will be perfect," the midwife nodded, gathering her bag and items she had brought with her, "Now, we shall leave you to get some sleep. And we shall be back in the morning to check on you. Come, Zamanath. We best not keep your parents waiting."

"Yes ma'am," the child, still not to the age to shave her head, followed her out of the small house, closing the door behind them.

* * *

Vir awoke as the spasm hit his own stomach. The doctors loyal to the underground resistance, what was left of it anyways, had worked hard to reconstructed his stomach and all the damage the dagger had done. And while he didn't complain openly (hey, he was just glad he was still alive!), he really wished there was a better way to numb the pain.

"How are you feeling, Cousin?" his young cousin Kiron Maray asked.

"How should I feel?" he grunted, "I've been stabbed and slashed through the gut and the patchwork is barely palatable."

"Sorry cousin," Kiron said, a little abashed, "Just trying for small talk. That's all."

Vir waved a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter," he assured him, "What does matter is that at least we are alive. Do you know the figures yet?"

Kiron swallowed visibly. The pause, though slight, was certainly not good. Vir had sent his cousin to see about the other cells that were across the planet. See how many they still were in contact with.

"What?' Vir asked, "Out with it!"

"They've all be destroyed since this human arrived," Kiron said with a trembling of the body.

"But, but that, you know, was only-" Vir gasped.

"Three days," Kiron finished, "Cousin Vir, we've been destroyed. This human seems to know everything about us. We are ruined. The Resistance is over."

The full weight hit Vir. His contacts in the Army of Light had been able but wiped out when the Minbari suddenly went loopy as a race, he had been forced to kill one of his only true friends, had lost the chance to save the Prime Minister, and now the whole Resistance was gone? It was simply too much bad news for one time.

But, just as doom threatened to overwhelm him, something stirred within him. It was as if a man long slumbered in sleep, only to begin awakening. His resolve hardened and suddenly, he was no longer afraid.

"No, no," Vir shook his head, "We aren't doomed yet."

"But, but cousin!" the young man stated, very slowly, "We have no resistance. We are all that's left! We have no army! We have lost."

Vir felt the eyes of the few civilians and soldiers nearby him looking over at them. He looked around at them. They were ragged and dirty and he saw their fear. It did look hopeless. But, no it wasn't hopeless.

"Listen," Vir said, pushing himself into a sitting position, "All of you. I have been in this whole resistance a lot longer than any of you have. I have seen both victories and triumphs. And I have seen bitter defeat. And, and you know what I've learned? Defeat, is a state of mind. We are not truly defeated until we are broken."

"But we've got nothing left," Kiron reminded him. And the others nodded their head in agreement.

"I started off with two people," Vir said, "Me and a human. Together, we built something. And think, if this human overseer was as all-knowing as he was, why hasn't he found us?"

This made them all pause and think. They were a bit more than two people. In fact, there must have been at least twelve people in this safe-house. And why hadn't the Narns swooped in on them? Or the Selvan? Vir let it sink in.

"We have _not_ been defeated cousin," Vir patted him on the shoulder, "As long as a single person lives, we have not been defeated. If we do die within the hour, and it encourages even a single person to so much as dare to hope for freedom, we will never be defeated."

He watched as the people around him suddenly gained new heart, and their movements once again were laced with purpose. Kiron, who had just moments before been defeated, suddenly opened his mouth. But Vir held up his hand and nodded. There was no need for words. It was a trying time, but the resistance was not dead yet.

_"Vir Cotto. You should be very proud of your wife. She lasted much longer under my interrogation then many have. Only at the point of death did she open her mind. Not to where you are, mind you. But, I now can communicate with you, since minds of lovers are linked."_

Vir frowned. Was that really a voice in his mind. Or had he finally lost it? The latter seemed more likely.

_"Are you a figment of my imagination?" _he thought to himself.

_"I am the darkest of your nightmares," _the voice, annunciated very briskly hissed, "_Listen, I do not have quarrel with your people. They will collapse sooner or later. The Vorlons will see to that. You, on the other hand, are the one keeping it all together. Surrender yourself, Vir Cotto, and receive the justice of my Lords, the Vorlons, or both she and your child, shall die in the most horrfic way imaginable."_

_"Who?" _Vir asked_, "Who are you?"_

_"I am Sebastian, at your service." _


	17. What We've Unleashed

**Chapter 16: What We've Unleashed**

Of course there were times when one needed to do what was necessary. But, it made it no less harder to do. Clark looked at the panel before him. It had taken roughly three weeks to get everything into place. Nearly two months had passed since the telepaths had all gone crazy. And now, it was time to eliminate that threat.

"Whenever you are ready," Mr. Morden said, standing next to him, "It is time."

Clark nodded slowly. "I know," he said, "And while I appreciate the effort that was put into this, I know I'm going to go down as the worst president to inhabit the office."

Morden raised an eyebrow. "And if you don't," he pointed out, "your people are going to die anyways. So time to get it done."

"Alright," Clark sighed, "I'd best do it then."

He slowly reached out his hand, and it hovered over the three buttons on the panel. He pushed each very deliberately and slowly, as if waiting for someone to sweep out of the heavens above and yank his hand back. But, power needed to be maintained. Order must be had.

But why this? If there had been a political shake up in the regime of the Shadows, why did they need telepaths wiped out still? No. They didn't need them dead. Clark needed them dead. It was either he killed them, or his entire race would be wiped out by mindless telepaths.

Also, General Hague stood outside the door. If he didn't comply, Hague would take over as military dictator. Not, there was only one dictator here! And that was clark.

His fingers pressed the buttons.

And all over the Epsilon system, cities erupted in mini-nuclear blasts.

* * *

Susan Ivanova walked with her cane towards C'n'C. It was almost second nature for her to walk with her cane, although she still walked with an obvious stiff limp which would be with her forever. Technicians and other personnel moved about her in a steady swarm of people. They nodded to her as she walked by, or offered quick salutes.

But, she barely recognized them. She was in a contemplative mood. When Marcus had pitched the idea of the rebirth ceremony, she had declined to go. There was no way she would ever been caught doing that. But, she had seen a change since that event, she noticed. People were happier, more at peace with their lives. She especially saw it in David, who had seemed bummed out for weeks. Not that she knew why. Perhaps she had been a little too rash in not accepting the offer.

She stepped up to the transport tube and pushed the button, waiting for it to open. She didn't need to wait long before the door opened, and she stepped inside the tube. She turned around as the door slid shut and a voice asked.

"C'n'C?"

"Yeah," she said as the tube shuddered slightly as it began its ascent. Only then was she able to note the voice. She turned and looked at Marcus.

"Oh," she said, "Where's your second Bo'marran or whatever he's called?"

"Bri'marri," he corrected her, "And no, he's training a few new recruits sent from Minbar. It's odd though."

"What?" she asked, looking up at his face which towered over hers.

"That despite the Minbari totally committing without question to join the war effort against the Shadows," he commented, "Never has the Minbari raced moved as one so completely together. Not on anything. Even during the war on Earth there were those who opposed it. But not now. No opposition. It makes me...well, I don't like it, Susan."

She nodded. "Neither do I," she agreed, "But what can we do about it? I'm afraid the Vorlons are not what we expected them to be."

Marcus was silent, a cloud falling over his face. "And then there is Sheridan," he said, "What is he doing? How did he get control over all the Shadows like he did? Is it...is it possible he was seduced?"

Susan shrugged. "I don't know the answer to that," she admitted. "But, what if he has gotten control of the Shadows? Has the destruction of planets been happening still on his side?"

"Only on planets that are inhabited solely by Vorlons," came the answer, "And believe me, there are many planets outside their space where they have completely taken over for their purposes. It's not like the Vorlons though. Telepaths running all over the place, planets with even so much as one Shadow being blown up."

"And Sheridan allowed Lennier to leave," she continued the logical progression, "even though he influenced Delenn to stay. Why allow a potential enemy to leave? Simply a ruse? A tactic to draw us in?"

They stood there for a few seconds in complete silence. The implications were too clear and obvious for those who had eyes to see and ears to hear. Something was changing, and it was going to be intense.

"Susan," he asked, turning to her, "If I go to Za'Ha'Dum to talk to Sheridan...will...will you come with me?"

Susan looked at him, and saw his sincere desire in his eyes. He wanted her to come with him.

"Yes."


	18. Apostates

**Chapter 17: Apostates**

King Arthur walked down the long corridor towards the Crystal Queens Chamber. She had summoned him, and while he would of course had come without delay, she seemed particularly angry. So, he had hurried as fast as he could.

Envy was a sin in the Kingdom, but, he did envy from time to time the fact that he was not evolved enough to turn into pure energy. It certainly would make travel time all that much quicker.

As he approached her chamber, he spotted two black encounter-suited Vorlons flanking the doors. He slowed, bewildered at the sudden appearance of...guards? Why did the Queen need guards to her chamber? She had enough power to project herself across the galaxy. Why did she need guards?

He walked past them, hand resting on the pommel of _Excalibur_. For once, he was suddenly afraid.

He entered the chamber, and spotted to his disgust Highest General Kiltor. They never saw eye to eye, and he knew that Kiltor wanted to remove Arthur. Only the Crystal Queen held him and his vain ambitions in check.

-YOU ARE LATE.-

He nearly reeled from the force of the angry denunciation from the Queen. Indeed, she was pissed off. What could possibly make her so angry.

"I am sorry," he bowed, "Forgive my human weaknesses. I came immediatly. But, I can only go-"

-Silence!- the Queen demanded -You have betrayed us.-

He frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, "I have served you for near a thousand years. I have never betrayed you."

-Your pupil,- Kiltor said with a hint of menace, -Entil'zha Marcus Cole has decided to head off to Za'Ha'Dum. He intends to join Sheridan.-

Arthur's eyebrows rose. What? This made no sense. Marcus Cole was as loyal as any he had ever trained. He explained this to them but he felt a powerful telekinetic slap across his face. This did make him stumble back.

"I did not tell him to do so!" he shouted, anger building up inside him.

-If you had trained him well as you claim- The Crystal Queen retorted -He would not be going there!-

"What makes you think he is on his way there?" He asked, "What proof do you have?"

-Vorcha has heard them.- Kiltor replied with immense superiority.

"Another Vorlon that has no love except for power," Arthur spat, "He also wishes to remove me. My Queen, allow me to go to Marcus. Talk him back."

-I will let you go.- she agreed.

"Thank-"

-To destroy him.-

"But...why?" he asked, looking up, "I can reason with him."

-The river does not negotiate with water that has left the course!- the Queen barked.

"He can be persuaded to come back," the King said, taking a step forward, "Let me find out why he is going."

-A cancer cell, though dormant, can come back to life.- The Queen said, -Dispose of him. Or you will be removed like a wart.-

* * *

"Please take a wing of White Stars with you," Bri'marri pleaded, looking at Entil'zha as he boarded the White Star, "This action is not wise!"

Marcus shrugged. "Perhaps," he said, "But I go not to war, but to negotiate. Sheridan might be talked into ending this war."

Bri'marri was not convinced. "At least let me go with you," he said, "A crew of five Anla'Shok is not enough if he turns on you."

Marcus smiled. "Your concern means much to me, old friend," he put his hand on Bri'marri's shoulder, "But I need you to stay here. If I die, you shall be Entil'zha in my place. I declare it now."

The Minbari sighed. There was no way to talk him out of this. Bri'marri held up his hand slowly, placing it on Marcus' chest and placing his other hand on his heart. Marcus also did the same and they bowed to each other slightly. A few seconds passed before they lifted their heads.

"Walk with Valen," the Minbari said as Marcus pulled back.

"I'll be back," Marcus said, climbing onto the ship.

He walked down the corridor to the bridge, looking around with approval at the Anla'Shok already at their stations. And there was Susan, standing by his Captain's chair. He walked up, and nodding to the crew took his seat.

"Let's be off shall we?" he asked, and the after getting permission to depart rose and began to slide out of the docking bay.

As the ship left, a shuttle landed and the back opened. The landing ramp dropped down and soon out of the back stepped Garibaldi. Bri'marri spotted him and the Anla'Shok that stepped out of the back of the shuttle. He walked up to them and holding his hands in a triangle bowed to Garibaldi.

"Welcome Chief Warrant Officer Garibaldi," he said properly, "How was your trip?"

Garibaldi looked at him, and there was a look of almost disgust in the very back of his eyes. But it was so small he didn't notice it. Or even in the Anla'Shok. The smiling faces of them beguiled the hatred lurking deep down.

"It was productive," he said, "Went hunting wabbits and found a Road Runner."

Bri'marri raised his eyebrow. "I do not understand," he said. "What are 'wabbits'?"

"Tall grey creatures with long ears, two massive front teeth and a fluffy tail," Garibaldi patted him on the shoulder, "An Earth delicacy."

Bri'marri frowned. "Very odd," he said, shrugging, "But you humans are an odd people. Anla'Shok, report to the training chamber."

They bowed and walked past. As they walked, Vorcha entered the hangerbay and all the group scurried away, trying to avoid him. Vorcha stopped, looking around as if something had disturbed him. Vorcha's helmet swerved in the Vorlon equivalent of a shrug and moved off.

* * *

"Time for a nap," Ivanova said, stretching her arms, "It's been a long day."

"Would you like me to show you where the crew quarters are?" Marcus asked, swerving his chair to look at her. They had entered hyperspace not more than ten minutes before.

She nodded. "Okay," she said, "If you wish."

"Okay," he slapped the arm rests and jumped to his feet, "Shall we be going?"

One of the crew reported urgently in Minbari and Marcus responded questioningly, grabbing Ivanova's arm to stop her. Turning around he strode to his chair and Ivanova looked at him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Vorlon warship coming up and hailing us," Marcus said, "And they aren't alone."

Ivanova waited as the viewscreen wavered down and turned on. Showing on there was a human male, wearing what seemed like old armor. Was the guy an anachronism? Ivanova watched Marcus as he bowed his head.

"Arthur," he said, "What brings you out this way sire?"

"Marcus Cole," he said, his voice a strong British accent, "Where do you think you are going?"

Marcus shrugged, "Just going on a jaunt if you follow me, sire," he said.

"We are men of action," Arthur said, "Lies do not become us. I know you are going to Za'Ha'Dum."

"Only to speak to Sheridan and find out what he's doing," the Scot assured him, Ivanova moving close to him.

"The Vorlons have deemed Sheridan outcast and none may speak to him," Arthur said, "To do so would be treason."

Marcus frowned. "Will, if that if the case, we shall turn..."

"You misunderstand," Arthur held up his hand, "The very thought of talking to him is considered a high crime. We are here to execute you."

A silence fell on the bridge, all eyes turning to the screen. This was not good. A White Star had no chance against a Vorlon Warship. Not alone. This was very bad.

"What?" Marcus asked, a little shocked, "But...why?"

"Believe me," Arthur said, "I tried pleading your case. But the Crystal Queen, blessed be her name, has ordered it. Prepare to die, Marcus Cole."

Marcus stared at the screen, and his eyes hardened. "I'm not dead yet," he said, "And you can't kill what you can't catch." He barked some orders to the crew and the ship jolted as it shot forward.

"Close channel!" he ordered and the viewing screen shut off, "_Zha'Valen'Venni_, top speed!"

The ship turned and shot forward, but suddenly, the ship's power turned off, it's engines going dead and the inertial dampeners cutting off. Everyone was thrown forward, and Susan's cane went flying, bashing against the wall. Just then, standing on the deck was a holographic image of Arthur. He looked sadly at Marcus.

"Did you really think we would allow you to have a fleet with kill switches installed, Marcus?" he asked, "I am sorry that it has come to this. Farewall, Marcus Cole."

The holographic image shut off, and the first hit slammed into the ship, causing everyone to fly. Hit after hit hit the ship, and even without power, the ship was able to take hit after hit. But, the Vorlons merely were playing with their prey. It would get worse as time went by.

Marcus crawled towards Ivanova, who was pinned to the ground, unable to move. He reached her, another hit making the crew slam against the floor and curse. He reached her, and slowly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"I love you, Susan Ivanova," he whispered as another hit struck them, this time he could feel a piece of the ship being burned through.

"And I you," she said, and they awaited the end, in each others arms.


	19. Gospel of Death, Doctrine of Order

**Chapter 18: Gospel of Death, Doctrine of Order**

Franklin bent over the culture underneath the microscope and peered down at the blood samples. He noted the discoloring that was going on, and the mutations. Almost akin to cancer, but with a fiercer edge. He glanced up from it at Bri'marri, who sat, holding his yellow tinted face between his hands, his breath seeming to shake his entire body.

"You are sick!" he announced and Bri'marri's returning glance could have impaled him had it been a spear.

"This-is not time for-jokes," he rasped out, his voice having a watery nature to it.

"When did you start feeling this way?" he asked, "What was the first symptom?"

"I started-feeling-um, a little light-headed," the Minbari said, having a hard time concentrating, "Yeah, lightheaded."

Franklin nodded slowly. "I got that you were lightheaded. But, when did you start feeling lightheaded?"

Bri'marri blinked and scowled as he tried to concentrate, "About, three, four hours ago. I had...just talked to that bald-human. You know...the Security guy."

"Garibaldi?" he offered.

"Yeah," he nodded, "He and his party had just returned from...whatever they had been doing."

"Thank you," Franklin nodded, "Now, I want you to lay down for a couple hours. And we'll see how you are afterwards."

As Bri'marri slowly stood, up, his body trembling, Franklin became concerned. Bri'marri was Minbari, so he had all those natural bodily agents to fight off bacteria or anything else that might try to sneak into the system. But, he was also healthy, so he shouldn't get sick easily. Add on top of that the rigorous life-style of a Ranger. Just because he didn't go on mission didn't stop him from being extremely active. More than once Franklin had bumped into him when Bri'marri had been jogging the entire length of the station.

"Doctor Franklin?" a female voice called, and he turned to see a human female step into his office. Her skin was tinted yellow.

"I don't feel so good, Doc," she said.

"I can see that," Franklin said, "What's your symptoms?"

"Light-headedness," she said, "Headache, I'm having a hard time concentrating. My body feels weak, and I'm going through cold and hot flashes."

She nearly collapsed and he grabbed her and lead her to the open bio-bed. Just then, there was a crash and healers swooped in to pick up Bri-marri off the floor. He frowned. This was not good.

* * *

"My dear," Sebastian said, bending over the bruised and beaten body of Lyndisty Cotto, "I have no desire to harm either you or the child. But, until your beloved husband joins us, I am afraid we will have to hurt you."

Lyndisty glared at him through her one eye that was not swollen shut. She had been whipped, kicked, beaten, and put through the interrogational whims of Sebastian. But, she still held herself proudly. What a fine specimen of womanhood she was. If only her husband was as noble as she.

"He will-" she coughed, "He will never surrender to you."

"You are quiet wrong there mi'lady," he said, touching the brim of his tall hat, "Love is a most potent temptation, especially when used properly."

He turned and looked at the noble woman in the corner, her arms chained above her head, her body sagging against the chains. She was indeed a woman of high birth and station. She must have been a great leader in her own right in their patriarchal society. But, it was nothing to Sebastian. What were the trapping of power to those who had seen the truth?

They were mere vices to blind and deceive. To keep those with sight from seeing. And those with hearing from listening.

"I am sorry, my fair lady," he scoffed, "I do not dare presume you care for me at all. But, the Vorlons will have order. And you are one of the chief architects of resistance and chaos on this world. Did you really think you could keep the Lords of Order from finding you? The Selvan are most potent hunting hounds when set on the right course. Do you deny that?"

The lady said nothing, but not that he expected her too. Blood flowed from a great gash across her face, blinding her. Several of her teeth had been broken, and the purple and black swelling around her joints spoke and broken fingers and savage kicks.

"Of course I understand your need to resist," he said dismissively, "But, it is not my will that must be obeyed. Homage and obedience is due the Lords of Light."

A noise gurgled from her mouth. He bent down closer, amazed that she must be trying to speak. After so long of silence, to finally break it, would be amazing.

"He that is to be Emperor has arrived to free the rightful Emperor," she croaked out, "And within a fortnight, you shall be killed by the one who shall rule the galaxy."

"Help thee my unbelief," he snorted, and with a crack of his staff, the life of Morella, Third wife of Turhan, came to an end.


	20. Last of the Minbari

**Chapter 19: Last of the Minbari**

_In Valen's Name_, Lennier thought to himself as he stepped off the back of the shuttle, _how long has it been?_

Almost five years had passed since Lennier, of the Third Fane of Chudomo had been home. Minbar had been a planet of beauty and tranquility with which no planet could comparison with. It had been rich with art, laughter and music. The crystalline cities stood in bright rainbow glory when the sun touched them.

But now...the cities were shattered, and the rebuilding was mysteriously not underway. The lakes and rivers were shocked with dirt and rubble and the decaying corpses of the dead and gone had not been buried in crystal coffins as was customary for the Minbari. Forests had been flattened, and nothing was being replanted.

Every stone seemed to feel the hurt still. Every building seemed to weep in sorrow at what had happened to the world around. The very ground seemed to sigh in short painful bursts of breath.

What had happened to his beloved homeworld? Surely the damage from the bombardment, nearly five months past, could have been cleaned up? Where was the Minbari people? Where were the great teachers, the speakers of wisdom? Where were the young mothers and their squealing children? Where were the old men drunk on ma'la'la juice?

He wandered the destroyed city streets, deserted by anything living. Had he caused this? Had his rescuing of Sheridan lead to this destruction? He knew something would happen if he did join and vow his aide to Sheridan, and while he had not pulled the trigger, his escape had emboldened his comrades to do their horrific deeds.

Was his one act on conscience the end of Minbari civilization?

He headed out past the edge of the city and headed towards the river he had some many years ago swam every morning without fail. It was clogged with the dirt that had been kicked up by the bombardment, and t had settled in, choking the flow.

"So," a voice spoke from behind him, "The traitor returns."

"Who said that?" Lennier demanded, spiraling around, hands read to defend himself. But no one was there, and he frowned. What was going on here?

"How do you like Minbar, Lennier?" the voice asked, sounding a kin to the wind, but as if it came from the earth at the same time.

"Not what I remember it as," he scowled, turning slowly, his eyes scanning every detail of the land around. Where was the voice? Who was the bearer of it?

"A chance for redemption turns into the bitter ashes of treason, betrayal and genocide," the voice condemned with a harsh laugh, "The wayward Minbari returns to the homeland. The prodigal son returns to the house to find it was burned down in his absence. What think you know of your choices?"

Lennier stalked slowly towards the large hill that overlooked the land. He'd be able to see everything from there. There was no place for them to hide from his sight from up there. He was Anla'Shok, and that brought power and sight. He slowly walked up the hill, keeping his eyes peeled.

"Do you really think sins of an entire race can be forgiven by the acts of one?" the voice asked, "No, the sins of a race must be repaid by the whole race. Who are you to play repentant for a whole race? You brought this upon your people. You have no one to blame but yourself."

"You lie!" he curled his fists and shook it in the air, "I did not do this! The Humans destroyed my planet! Just payment for what we did."

"Your rhetoric disgusts me, Anla'Shok," the voice balked, "Those are the same pathetic mewlings of the priestlings as they were blasted from orbit! Kalain might not have been a perfect ruler, but he did not take upon himself the sins and lies of others. Do not pander to me with your lies. Take responsibilities of your own mistakes."

Suddenly, like a wave crashing into him came every mistake that he had ever made. From the time he had accidently broken the legs of his younger brother until he left Delenn on Za'Ha'Dum. Ever sin, every mistake, every decision he made that had been false struck him with such force he bent and nearly collapsed from the attack. He sank to his knees, realizing that he hadn't done everything he could have to prevent this from being the fate they were in.

He seemed to be ripped from his own body and he could survey all the galaxy. Armies of light and dark ravaged each other, and the small, the weak and innocent were swallowed up, stepped on by giants. Whole planets crumbled and exploded, and all the while, a cancer grew, gathering people in to worship it. And many, even some he considered friends, worshiped the sickness, and prepared a crusade that would destroy all beauty and truth.

"What can I..." he whispered, "What can I do? I can't defeat the evil powers that be. As you said, I am but one man."

"Yes," the voice said, "You are. But one man can make a difference. You shall be the difference."

There was a sound as if smoke was hissing around him and he looked up. A man stood there, his arms folded. He wore a helmet, the front pulled down like an ancient Polynesian-mask of Earth. He wore robes that seemed to flicker and as he spoke a flame thudded in his eyes and mouth. In his hand was a staff, a staff hand mounted on the top, fingers closed. At least Lennier assumed he was a man, although he had never seen the likes of his race before.

"Who..." he blinked, "Who are you?"

"I am Xan," the being said, standing in front of him, "I am from a race of the First Ones. Our name is over fifteen thousand letters long, but you can call us the Walkers of Sigma 957."

"Walkers?" he asked, frowning, "You are a First One? Why...why now do you venture forth? Why not sooner?"

"We know the dreadful things going on in the Galaxy," Xan replied, "And while we can ignore the petty bickering of the Younger Races, what the Shadows and Vorlons are doing is terrible. And even more so, we realize the true danger comes not from them. But from a race so evil and powerful, that even the Shagh'Toth, known as the Soul Hunters helped to drive them out. We are amassing our forces. But, we need a champion to speak for us. Come, Anla'Shok Lennier. You are needed to save the Galaxy."

Lennier looked around at Minbar. He had come here to find solace. But, all he saw were the ghosts of a dying race. The world was lost, and so were his people. The whole planet stank with death and destruction and he began to realize that was what the world had become. Not only the world though. The whole galaxy.

He slowly reached out his hand towards Xan. He grasped his hand in his own, and with a sparkling, the two vanished from sight.


	21. Money, Savior of the Rich

**Chapter 20: Money, Savior of the Rich**

The destruction that had laid waste to over a billion lives on the home worlds of the Human Resistance really meant jack to William Edgars. Even with the decrepit economy and now his business going downhill without the workers to power Interplanetary Expeditions, he'd easily be able to ride out the storm. He had saved seventy-five percent of all the money he had made and invested them in different banks. And now, he had roughly four and a half billion credits with which to rely upon.

Oh, sure. Money wouldn't be coming in. But, with his own personal generator tapping into the power of the Great Machine (which he had discovered months before Garibaldi stumbled across it) and the underground gardens, he could sustain his life style for nearly two years financially.

But, he wasn't totally above feeling though. Of the seven million remaining humans in the Epsilon system, nearly six and a half million were now infected with radiation sickness. Within three months, they'd all be dead. But, thankfully, the human race wouldn't perish. It wasn't for nothing that Clark had sent the humans back to Terra Firma. Most of the military had survived, and most of the traders and space pilots and crews had also survived. Humanity would survive.

He walked slowly down the staircase, past his all-body-and-no-brains secretary. He lifted his cup of orange juice from the plate on her desk as he walked. Sure, humanity hadn't quiet mastered the art of growing fruits here, but he had outside help to make passable oranges. Especially with the pulp.

He headed down the stairs, taking a small swig as he stepped up to the basement lab. He didn't much care about politics and the like. He was a behind the curtains type of operator. But, Clark had asked him to do his projects, and so he'd do them.

A hundred people were strapped to chairs, small caps on their heads. He knew the Shadows wanted to gain as much experience with Humanity as possible. For some reason, the new leader of that group felt that Humanity held the key to conquering the galaxy or some such nonsense. So, much like an orange, their minds were being squeezed to come up with new ways of battling the Vorlons.

Or, so the official word was. He had no idea the truth.

Why had he been chosen? Because he had true experience with medicine. It had been his life's work to heal and cure. And to explore humanity and its ability to heal and block out pain. He even considered once turning to make a telepath vaccine. But, he wasn't about that anymore.

No, he was here to help the Shadow war-effort.

"Has any useful information been pulled that I can send to Mr. Morden?" he asked.

"No sir," the scientist replied, "Mostly love interests, birthdays, what they ate. That sort of thing."

"Well," Edgars folded his arms, "It would be nice to get something useful. That sneaky little man has been riding my butt. I don't know why it's become so important all of the sudden."

The man shrugged. "But I thought you'd like to see this sir," he handed him a data crystal, "It's a way to bring down at least one of the major rebels."

"Really?" Edgars smirked, "I doubt that."

He took the crystal anyways and looked at it. Well, perhaps he could make Clark happy. Heavens knew he was also among those who was in a crappy mood lately. Not that too many people were in a good mood though. He stepped over to a computer and slid the crystal into the slot and activated the computer. What he saw there at first startled him, and then made him smile.

"Why yes," he nodded his head, "But, I don't think we need to hand him to Clark on a silver platter. How about we get some leverage with this? Shall we?"


	22. Disciples of the Abyss

**Chapter 21: Disciples of the Abyss**

Ships flew in compact formation, heading towards the Shadow lines. The planet was Coriana VI, and the Vorlons had learned through a minor skirmish with the Shadows that they were going to be planting a base on the planet. No, they would not allow this. Not even their new Emperor John Sheridan could stop them from destroying the planet.

The Vorlon's main fleet stayed behind in Hyperspace. They'd wait for the signal of assistance that would assuredly come. The Younger Races, by definition, were not more than ants. They'd never be able to beat the Shadows, but now that Sheridan had turned to their side, they'd be in even worse danger. So they would watch and wait.

Two-thirds of the forces of the Alliance of Sheridan were here. General Marrago's fleet and Kulomani's fleet were also here. David Corwin was also there, leading the White Star fleet. While he held reservations about fighting his old friend, indeed, Sheridan was rumored to actually be in the Shadows fleet, he had served under his commander for a long time, and knew his strategies.

The greatest battle of the war would be fought here.

* * *

Franklin's head drooped, his eyelids heavy. He had been hard at work, trying to get ahead of this contagion. But, already there were over a hundred cases in the past two weeks. There seemed no end to the stream of people coming here.

"Doctor?" a nurse asked, shaking him gently.

"What?" he asked, blinking his eyes and sticking his fingers on them and rubbing them.

"Get some sleep, Doctor," she said.

He shook his head, "No, I am fine. Really I am."

"You've been here for over thirty-six hours," she reminded him, "You best go get some sleep."

He stared at one of the patients, lesions spread across his face, from the edge of his eye down to near the edge of his lips and up above his eyebrows. Everyone got them after a few days before slipping into comas. The station was quarantined against anyone coming in or off. Had been that was since shortly after the fleet left earlier that week.

"Alright," he conceded defeat, "I'll get some sleep. You'll let me know if their conditions change?"

"Only after you get at least six hours of sleep," she raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, I'll be off then," he stood up and felt his back pop and his legs stretch painfully. Must have sat too long, "Hey, Nurse Melanie, before I go, I was curious. How would you like to have dinner sometime?"

She gave him a small smile. "Sorry, Doctor Franklin," she apologized, "But I don't date coworkers."

"What if it wasn't a date?" he asked hopefully.

"Not even as friends," she shot him down and with a small giggle walked off.

Franklin shrugged his shoulders and turned to head out of the medlab and head towards his quarters. You win some, you lose more. That's how dating worked.

* * *

"We are receiving a message from the enemy fleet," Corwin's XO on the White Star ship which he was calling "the _Defiant"_ reported.

"What is it?" Corwin asked.

"They wish to ask for a truce while their commander and our generals including you speak with them," the XO reported, "And they offer us terms of peace."

Corwin frowned. He knew the Shadows were a treacherous lot. He didn't quite believe this whole "Terran Empire" business to begin with. And why would they call for a truce? Did they know the trap that was to be sprung on them? Corwin didn't know but he was too curious to ignore the possibility of peace.

"Tell them we will be willing to talk to them-what the h-l?!"

One minute he had been sitting in the command chair of the _Defiant_. And now, he was standing in a black room it seemed, although he couldn't tell if it was a room or not. He couldn't see walls. He turned his head left, to right, and spotted both Kulomani and Marrago also standing there, confused.

"What devilry is this?" Kulomani asked, his eyes darting everywhere.

"I'd like to know myself," Marrago grunted, "We are here. Aren't we?"

"Fear not dear friends," a voice spoke, and a being of immense light began walking up to them from far off, "For I consider you to be my friends. Lord-General Jonah Marrago, I do not believe we've had the pleasure of meeting."

"I...no, I don't believe so," Marrago squinted towards him.

"A pity, your mind is vast and yet precise," the voice, distorted to project love and sadness said, "I am sure we could be best of friends. Ah, if it isn't Kulomani. The first to rally to the cause of defeating chaos. I didn't realize you had recovered sufficiently from your wounds."

"It was a slow process," Kulomani replied bitterly.

"And my good friend and second, David Corwin," the illuminated being was now so close that his light was blinding, "You were always there for me. And I for you. A pity we meet as enemies now."

"I was not the one who joined the Shadows," Corwin retorted, "I did not give in to chaos. And I thought you had learned your lesson."

"We have much to talk about," Sheridan said, the light dropping to reveal his armored personification, "And everything I say will be heard by the fleet. Even the Vorlons will be able to hear, but be unable to do anything about it."

* * *

The sound of the flat-line heart-beat hit the room like a whistle. Nurse Melanie rushed over to the patient, and saw it was Bri'marri. His heart had stopped and she knew there was only a minute that they could do something for him. She pointed to the Minbari healer.

"Get the cortical stimulator prepped," she ordered and as the healer turned around she grabbed some sanitization cream and wiped away his brow so there wouldn't be any dirt that would cause it to stop.

Next she knew, his eyes were awake and his fist was crushing every rib-bone in her chest. As she reeled backwards, blood exploding from her new hole in her chest, he reached around and smashed his other fist into the Minbari healer while she was still bent over. As each vertebrae shattered, she hadn't even begun to fall before he caught her headbone in his hand and with a jolt, ripped it off the back of her head.

"I hear your commands, my Lord," he said, rising from the table, "Your will be done in this galaxy as it is in the other."

An assistant walked up from outside and looked up. His eyes grew wide and he prepared to turn to run for help. But Bri'marri's foot flew up and he shattered the hipbone of the human in the crotch area. He turned to those in the room and rose his hands up.

"It is time to go to the Prophet and hear the words from the Great God," he said, and the sick and dying suddenly rose up, the orders from the Hand not to be dismissed.

* * *

"There is much truth to what you say," Kulomani grudgingly acknowledged, "But what makes what you say any more better then what the Vorlons give us? They offer us order and stability. You offer anarchy."

"Anarchy is choice without law to govern the choices," Sheridan replied patiently, as a father to an impatient child, "I offer you those laws, but the choice and chance of accepting or rejecting without retribution. Unfortunately though, this is a war, and if you decide to remain with the Vorlons, I will be forced to destroy you."

Marrago tapped his booted foot. "Oh sure," he grunted, "You offer us the chance to join, but I've heard of what you did to Delenn. You forced her to stay."

"She was necessary for me," Sheridan said, although he truly seemed to resent having done so, "But, I let Lennier leave by his own choice."

"Because he was not necessary?" Marrago snorted.

"You misunderstand," he said and shook his head, "Lennier and I have a bond. An oath if you will. He is very much important to me. But, he must be allowed to make his own choice. And I give you all that same choice. Join me or not. But, I have revealed to you the true nature of the Vorlons. They do not allow choice unless it is in complete obedience to their laws and whims. You know this to be the truth."

"I do," David whispered, "I have doubted the Vorlons for a while. But, if I turn my back on them, how do I know you aren't some tyrant just looking for a way to overthrow all our freedoms? You can't guarantee it."

"You will have to trust me, David," Sheridan said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "If you join me, we can help end this war. I do not wish to destroy the Vorlons. Their purpose is pure, even if they have become corrupted. I want to help them return to their path. I have meet the Eldest. His name is Lorien, and he was one of the First that was born in this galaxy. And believe me, there are things far worse out there than any of you know. We need a united front against this threat. Join me."

* * *

Vorcha could feel the ancient threat. His race was inbred with the danger signals of the Ancient Enemy. Even worse than the Shadows had ever been, he moved hurriedly at once, gliding furiously down the corridor towards the Hangerbay where his ship was. He needed to get the warning out as quickly as possible, and the ship would give him the extra telepathic boost needed.

He bowled down Anla'Shok, Tak'cha and humans alike as he sped down the hallway. The doorway was being cracked open slowly, and the Hands disciples were running loose. He entered the transport tube and it began descending towards the Hangerbay level.

It stopped three floors down and opened the bodies of Anla'shok flying everywhere under the powerful attacks of the Disciples. He himself was at once assailed by three Disciples. Their attack was telepathic, trying to claw its way into his mind. But their attack was weak, the full power of their masters not yet fully upon them and with a buildup of energy, blasted two of them away, cutting them in half. The last one rushed forward, raising a denn'bok. He fired another blast and it took off his head, but the Disciple kept moving forward.

The denn'bok smashed into his encounter-suit, driving him back. But, he lashed out, sending the body spiraling back out in the corridor. The door slid shut and he continued his journey. His encounter-suit was dented, and another stroke would have surely broken his suit.

* * *

The fleet turned around, and joined Sheridan's fleet surrounded Coriana VI. Suddenly what had been an outmatched Shadow fleet was now equal in numbers to the Vorlons. As the Vorlon ships were released from the hold they had at once scrambled and jumped into normal space. There was no way they'd let this battle end without a fight! But, Sheridan stood as if filling the entire space and held out his hand.

And one by one the ships converted to his cause. Soon, even the Vorlon Fleet Admiral had joined Sheridan's cause. Historians have considered this to be the turning point of the Last Shadow War. And they'd be right. More bloodshed would follow, but there was little doubt about the power Sheridan had. And, he turned his fleet towards Kah'Markab, to welcome all those into his growing Armada.


	23. Hell Hath No Wrath

Chapter 22: Hell Hath No Wrath...

While many places had been nuked, Nova Quebec had not been among them. Now it was being packed with refugees from the other cities, except for those who had the money to live in the cleaner underground areas or were already dead. Business had taken a big boom, and despite the stretch on resources, slowly food shipments from the Sol System were coming in to help with the rebuilding. Clark was still President but no one could reach him to take him out. And the military was more or less intact, only a couple hundred men on leave or civil and riot duties being vaporized.

But, Lyta noticed there was less an urging from the Vorlons, as if their power was beginning to wane. Something had happened which had really stretched their powers, and they were being forced to go on the defensive. Constantine felt this and from him she got a feeling of depressive brooding. But, she was not so much homicidal as she felt a directive to Vorlon space.

There is a barrier between mundanes and telepaths. Even those who have been in mixed marriages. Not saying that marriage has ever been perfect, but with normals and telepaths there is a definite barrier. Usually it doesn't work out. A telepath can read any lie in someone's mind, every thought. Every dirty joke, every unspoken angry thought and accusations as loud as day. They can even hear the thoughts that are formed before they are formed.

And that's not even talking about the mundanes views. There is a sense of mistrust, who knows what they are doing. Not only is there a desire not to speak, but also to stay away just so you don't feel like they are picking your brains. Part of relationships are the small lies that add flavor. But, telepaths will not have it. One reason the few telepaths that were married to mundanes ever told their spouses they were telepathic.

Zack Allen knew this when he married Lyta. Heck, he'd been dating and fantasizing about this lovely lady for over a whole decade before they'd married. Even when he had been a Minbari and his memories suppressed, a vision of red had always been there. It was frustrating at times, but he was more than happy to have her, even if it had been by less than honorable means.

They sat in their small apartment, not yet having been ordered to take in refugees. The order would come sooner or later. And they'd take in as many as they could. But, as Zack sat there, looking at the beautiful woman who prepared to run a few errands, he could not help but feel immense love pouring towards the woman who was the mother of his unborn child. Less than three months were still to go by, and in the July month, she seemed to radiate with her own inner light and strength.

And suddenly, he felt jealous. Envious of the relationship she had been able to have with Byron. He'd been able to read her thoughts, been able to have a closeness he'd never have with her. And...he suddenly realized it was all a lie. Oh, he loved her without reserve, but in the end, were they real feelings she had for him? Or was it simply that of the Shadow influence from Mr. Morden? In the end, he'd never truly know if she really _did_ love him.

In a sense, she was a prisoner. She was trapped, never to be able to get out. And as she said goodbye and headed out the door, purse strapped around her shoulder, wearing black form fitting leather, he sat there, staring at the door as she left.

He got up and walked towards the bathroom and taking his face washed it in a small handful of water. Water was being rationed out to accommodate so many. As he dried off his face and looked at the mirror and saw his reflection, was this the face of him? Or was it a mask? Deep down he knew Lyta never scanned his thoughts since they'd gotten back together. And he knew she wouldn't know what it was that had drawn them back together so furiously.

As he looked at the mirror, he suddenly became very angry. Who was he to enslave any person to his will? He had spent a decade being someone he had never been. Never knowing the truth of his life. But what was it he had learned as a Minbari? Minbari never lied.

They would to save honor for others. But, was there any honor here? No honor was served. No, he...he should tell her. Tell her the truth. As any man with honor did. Well, he might not have honor, but, wasn't it right?

"You know what will happen if you tell her?" he asked aloud, "You don't know if it will break the influence. She might leave you."

"But..." he asked himself, "Isn't it worth the truth?"

"Does it really matter?" he countered, "If you really do love each other, does it really matter if she was influenced to be by your side? And remember, you killed Delenn. Why waste such a beautiful gift as her for what...truth?"

He couldn't answer that. Was it really worth it? It made him feel so horrible, but, there had to be complete honesty. And he...he just couldn't do that to Lyta anymore. She was going to be the mother of his child, for crying out loud! He had to tell her the truth. No matter the consequences. Even if it destroyed them. He would at least have a clear conscience.

"Why?" the reflection seemed to ask and he slammed his fist into the sink top, "Why risk it?"

"Because," he finished lamely, "I love her."

He heard a knock at the door, and standing up took a few deep breaths to regain his composure walked towards the door. Yes, he'd tell her. But, first he might as well answer the door. He reached out and grabbing the door knob opened the door.

Lyta stepped off the turbo-train and with a deep breath of fresh air began walking towards one of the shopping centers of the area. The grocery store, _Belmarx_ was doing very good with the influx, and while there was a lot more business, she would be able to still find a good deal of stuff she needed.

She wasn't even there when she felt a flash in her mind. A flash of pain. She grabbed her head, it suddenly hurting. Blinking, she shook her head. A young man standing next to her slowed down, looking at her with obvious concern. She could sense that not only wasn't just him getting ready to impress this really hot woman he was seeing, but he also saw she was pregnant and as such had the general male concern about pregnant women.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, grimacing as another wave of pain hit her brain.

"Let me walk you to the store and get some pain reliever," he said, reaching out and grabbing her hesitantly, not sure just how to help this pregnant woman.

"You got pills don't you?" she asked, grabbing her head, her vision getting fuzzy, "You were thinking about them."

His eyes went wide. "They're not pain relievers," he said, growing red with embarrassment, "They are for...uh..."

"Oh," Lyta said, a tiny embarrassed but not in the mood to really put effort into her apologies, "I'm sorry, I'm a telepath and your thoughts were kind of clear about pills."

"Yeah," he laughed nervously, "I don't think you want _those_ pills, ma'am. I'm pretty sure you aren't made for those pills."

Despite the new wave of pain that hit her brain, she couldn't help but chuckling. "You are a funny man," she said, "And thank you for your help."

"No problem," he smiled, and helped lead her inside and started chatting amiably with her.

"On second thought," she said as they stepped inside the packed store, the thoughts and voices of hundreds of people at once assaulting her senses, "I really need to vomit."

"Hot women don't vomit," he joked as he lead her along, "Nor do they fart or poo."

"Can you just stow the jokes please?" she asked, the nausea really hitting her bad, "I just really need to throw up. And the less-talking I do the better."

"Okay ma'am," he said, "You are at the bathroom. Need any help?"

She doubled up and rushed inside, heading for a toilet. She closed the door behind her, and waves of digested meal began to hurl from her mouth. For a couple minutes she laid there, curled up over the bowl, waves of hot and cold sweeping through her. As she sat there, trying to steady herself, she suddenly heard something she had never heard before.

"_Lyta? Lyta?_"

That was Zack's voice. When did he get here? She hadn't exactly told him where exactly he was going. But, she was grateful he was here. Her knight in shining armor to the rescue.

"Zack?" she called aloud, her vision clearing slightly.

"_Lyta, where are you?_"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused, "I'm right here. I'm glad you are here..."

"_Lyta_," the Emperor said quietly.

"_What?_" she asked with her mind.

"_He's not here_."

"_What are you talking about? He's talking_."

"_No..._," he explained, "_your powers have grown to where you and his minds are connected. He isn't here Lyta. Speak out with your mind._"

No, that wasn't right. He wasn't right. Zack wasn't a telepath and as such they couldn't especially not over such a long distance. But, Constantine XI Palaiologos hadn't ever lied to her ever. So, despite the futility of it, she decided to try it.

"_Zack? Baby?_"

"_Oh Lyta. I...I thought I wouldn't hear from you again_."

No, he wasn't speaking them. And now she heard his voice was both terrified and filled with pain. Suddenly she understood. It wasn't her pain she felt. It had been his. How had her powers gotten this strong?

"_What-Zack, what happened?_" she asked, "_I'm at the grocery store. What's wrong?"_

_"A woman...stopped by. Telepath. Strongest attack I've ever felt. Lyta, I'm dying."_

_"No,_" she reasoned, trying to comfort him, _"You aren't."_

_"Lyta,"_ he said with a resigned but terrified tone, _"I died once before. On Mars. And I know I am dying."_

_"No, you can't be."_

_" Lyta, my back is broken, my skull is fractured. Both lungs are punctured and I'm drowning in my own blood."_

Tears began to stream from her as she realized the truth. She could feel the truth. Somehow, she knew it had to be true. He was really going to leave. And this time, she would never get him back.

_"She's coming after you, Lyta," _he said, his thoughts becoming disjointed as he was beginning to slip away. _"Ironic. I never...'hell hath no scorn'. She wants you...so angry. I...she'll destroy you and...baby. Lyta, save yourself. Save our child."_

_"No," _she wept bitter tears of grief, _"Don't die Zack. I love you."_

_"Do...do you?" _he asked, his mind almost pleading for confirmation, _"Lyta...I...had them force these feelings...you...they aren't real. I was selfish...you deserved better, Lyta. You...were..."_

_"I know Zack," _she hushed him, _"I already know what happened."_

_"You do? How?"_

_"Did you really think I was so blinded by love I couldn't see the truth?" _she asked with a chock.

_"Then...how...you love...me?"_ he was crying, the tears mixing with the blood running down his face as his heart continued to pump out his last moments of life.

_"Because I really do love you, Zack," _she replied, feeling her heart break, _"That's not a trick. It just helped me get pushed in the right direction."_

_"Thank you, Lyta," _he whispered relief seeping in_, "I love you. Always...have. Even as a...bonehead."_

_"I know," _she replied, _"And I always loved you. And I do love you. I love you, Zack Allen."_

And no reply except a flash of light filled her mind. Zack Allen was gone.


	24. To Defy Order

**Chapter 23: To Defy Order**

"I do not come here to destroy you," Sheridan said, standing in the Great Chamber of _Zha'Valen'Venni_, "But to offer you a choice. The Vorlons have betrayed us. They left you at your most needful hour. Leaving you to the crazed and possessed that you were barely able to drive out. Where are they? Who knows. But when you needed the Vorlons to stop these madmen, where were they? No answer? Exactly. The Vorlons have no need to explain themselves to anyone, because they believe themselves to be Gods."

The Disciples of the Hand had been driven off, many being shoved into an airlock during the fight and shot out into the cold hard vacuum of space. All the survivors of the battle, of course numbering more than seventy percent of the crew, stood in the Chamber of listened through the stations intercom systems. Sheridan claimed he did not come as a conqueror, and he could have easily blown away the entire station. But, just because he didn't, didn't mean he was a good choice.

"Join me or not," he said, looking down upon them, "I have no quarrel with any of you. If you choose to leave and return home, that is your choice. But, if you return to the Vorlons, know this, you will be by definition be my enemy. I know the Remnant Captains have almost to a man fled the area. I do hope we do not meet in battle. But please, make your own choice."

He turned and left without taking note of who was going to follow him or not. It had to be their choice. No, he had an Empire to run, and a war to fight.

* * *

A few months previous:

Vir walked into the Throne Room, stepping past the Narn and Centauri guards. Standing in front of the throne, (and not sitting in it he noticed) was Sebastian. He came alone, no weapons or tricks up his sleeves. He walked slowly forward, holding his head high and proud. He was Centauri after-all. And the once leader of the Centauri Underground and the Conspiracy of Light. He feared neither Shadow or Light.

Sebastian had a strange looking tall circular hat on his head and a cane with some animal-head as the handle in his hand. He looked at him with a cold smile. A smile of killers. No passion, no emotion. Except for anger and hatred. And delight in his brutal work.

"Welcome, Vir, of House Cotto," Sebastian said with a precise annunciation of everything he said. It was almost Centauri in sound. "I must admit, I am grateful you choice the higher road and came here. Your wife wouldn't have lasted much longer if left in my tender care."

Vir understood some of the human sine quo non for humor. Even for black humor. But this Sebastian did not joke. No, he was being deadly serious. And that more than anything was unsettling.

"I come only for you to let my wife and newborn child leave," Vir informed him.

Sebastian stared at him with his calculating, cold gaze. Vir had never seen eyes like his. There was an old Centauri proverb which said "eyes are by which the soul is revealed". He had never much believed in such things. But, as soon as he saw the dark well of discipline, holy cause, and murderous intent in Sebastian's eyes, it made his skin crawl.

"They have full-filled what was imperative of their being here," Sebastian nodded and with a snap of his finger, the torn, bloodied body of his wife was brought before him, her breathing labored. Mother and child were dropped before Vir, and horrified, he bent down slowly, stroking his barely living wife and child with tender strokes of the hand.

"Guards," Sebastian said, "Take this rebel to the holding cells."

"No."

Sebastian paused and turned towards him, a smile spreading across his face. He looked gleeful at the defiance.

"Do you dare deny my Lords designs for you?" he asked, tapping the top of the walking cane with his fingers, "You came here to surrender. And surrender you shall."

"I didn't come here to surrender," Vir said, "But I did come here for a purpose."

"Oh?" Sebastian arched an eyebrow, his staff beginning to crackle with energy, "And what is that, pray tell?"

"I have come to take what is rightfully mine," Vir replied. He knew there was no turning back. The air in the entire room was cackling with energy from the cane, Sebastian building up to strike him.

"And that may be?" Sebastian asked, his eyes seeming to darken in shadow.

"My Emperor," Vir said, "Now Gideon!"

An explosion of blue waves erupted through the room, sending guards flying back. Sebastian, taken by surprise, stumbled. He raised his cane but it wasn't enough to block the bolt of electricity that hit him and flung him backwards.

"Get Londo," Gideon said, appearing into the room, "You have only a few minutes."

Vir bent over his wife, and patted her on the shoulder. She needed him. But, no. He had a job to do. And she would not forgive him if he failed to rescue the Emperor. There was a scream of rage and a bolt of blue electricity sped forwards towards Gideon. Gideon caught it and deflected it.

"Go!" Gideon shouted, as blast after blast sped towards him and his deflecting them with quick deft movements, his staff catching them, "I can only hold him off for so long!"

Vir sprinted forward. He ran towards and past the throne, Sebastian standing and aimed to blast him with energy. But Gideon was there, using his staff to knock aside the cane, sending the blast into a Narn Guard as he began to slowly stir, his leg erupting in flames. Vir raced forward, glancing left and right. He spotted Virini, who was cowering behind a corner from what was going on.

"Minister Virini!" he exclaimed, grabbing him, "Where is the Prime Minister?"

"I-this is-I'm afraid," Virini babbled, but suddenly snapped to as Vir slapped him across the face, "Follow me, this way."

* * *

"Do you really think you Techno-mages can really gain mastery in a contest with those blessed of the Vorlons?" Sebastian taunted, his cane catching on Gideon's staff and electricity cackled between them from the power of the two weapons.

"As soon as your precious Vorlons began blasting the bejeebes out of planets it became our duty to oppose you," Gideon retorted, pulling back and swinging his staff low, hoping to sweep his legs from under him.

Sebastian laughed as he jumped over the staff and with his opening slapped Gideon hard across the face with his cane. Gideon stumbled back, his cheek cut with the force of the blow, and blood specks flew out of his mouth. He dashed backwards, then lowered himself, having regained his balance and composure and pointed the staff before him like an ancient spear-men.

"You can't even defeat me!" Sebastian slammed the end of his cane down, power rippling through the ground. Gideon stuck the tip of his own staff on the ground and it rippled around him.

Sebastian leaped forward slashing his cane at Gideon, who parried it and pushed it away with a twist of his wrist. Sebastian swept his cane, and a gash split in the Techno-mage's leg as he wasn't quick enough to move his staff to deflect the blast of energy. He grunted in pain.

"I will destroy you, Techno-mage!" the Inquisitor said, slashing up and Gideon slashing downwards, the blast deflected into a pillar with an explosion of rubble, "You cannot win this fight!" Another blast flew past Gideon's guard and he was hit full in the chest and he was thrown a foot backwards, landing on his butt. And blast slashed a gash across his shoulder.

"And you think you can best me?" the Inquisitor sneered, striding up to him.

Gideon smiled slowly and laughed. Sebastian frowned and tilted his head to the side. What was possible funny about this situation?

"I fail to find what is funny," he said.

"Did you really think I came alone?" Gideon demanded, and only then did Sebastian feel the other Techno-mage appearing. He turned face him, and got hit with a paralyzing field from both directions. He collapsed, but it would only last a few seconds. In that time, he saw Vir, with a battered Mollari rushing out of the Throne Room, and the Techno-mages vanish with the woman and child.


	25. Messed Up Body, Messed Up Mind

**Chapter 24: Messed Up Body, Messed Up Mind**

Those strong enough telepathically were in a sense invincible. One could manipulate the surrounding area just enough that even in the harshest environments, they could live with ease. Obviously one could walk down into the bottom of a lake and still breath, but some things, like say, the blast of a nuclear device, not so difficult.

And one of the few strong enough to survive the detonation of a nuclear device was Alfred Bester. Even his suppressed consciousness had thrown up a barrier to protect him when the thermal clouds rushed outwards. Then again, it helped he had been near the outermost edge of the nuclear blast, only about a hundred or so feet left. Also helped that the nuke had been a small one on New Geneva. Also helped that it had begun to dissipate by that time.

But still. Had a lesser telepath or a mundane been here, at least the front half of their body would have been peeled away. So, he considered himself fortunate.

Also, the blast had severally weakened whatever telepathic control had been over him. Yes, impulses still ran through his veins that weren't his, but he now could to a degree stop them. His killings were less random now, and he knew at least three people that he had been commanded to kill but had been able to stop himself. This was a victory in and of itself. Yes, he might not care for mundanes, but, there was supposed to be a worker class once he and his telepaths created the new order. And besides, he hated this type of killing. It was murder. Nothing less.

And one thing he realized, was how little sleep he had gotten over the past couple months. In fact, he didn't remember sleeping or eating during the entire time he was in this weird state the Vorlons had thrust upon him. So, with his new found control, however slight it was, he used it to get some sleep.

He went into the bus station nearby. Obviously, he could have chosen one of the dozens of houses that were still standing and taken sleep on one of their beds. But, no, he still had a sense of propriety. One did not simply go into someone's house and sleep on their bed. He wasn't Goldilocks after-all. He found a bench, and slowly sat down, his body aching from having stood so long.

But, he didn't remember actually sitting down. Because he plunged immediately into the heaviest sleep he had ever had.

His dreams were filled with images he'd never seen before. Dreams are the product of what one has seen in the real world being mish-mashed by one's active imagination. But this wasn't anything he'd ever seen. Floating cities with beings of light inhabiting them. Great ships and armadas forming and heading off towards great battlegrounds. And set against them was darkness and light combined, filtering through space like nobody's business.

* * *

Lyta thought she had used up all her tears the past couple weeks. But everything would set her off. When her child moved, when a smell hit her, when a memory would come, when she'd see anything that reminded her of Zack. She wouldn't have lasted very long, had it not been for the young man, who after she blubbered her story to him, had offered to set her up at his place.

The times she wasn't a complete mess, she would talk with the young man. His name was Bart Johnson, a bachelor who while he had a girl friend, confided he had no belief she wanted a serious commitment. Besides the casual sexual romps, she didn't want to become too detached to him. It was frustrating for him, but, he was taking great joy in being this woman's knight in shining armor. It wasn't even because there was a totally hot dame living with him. But no, he was a truly kind soul who took great happiness in the being able to help others. He'd even given her his room and he took the couch.

But despite his kindness, he wasn't a push over. During some of her more bitter waves of grief, she'd take to drinking. Well, at least until he'd show up, and then he'd fight her to take the bottle away. Even when she'd push him with a strong telepathic push, he'd still come back and wrestle it from her hands. He wouldn't let her endanger herself or her unborn child.

And so, two weeks had passed, and she knew the crazy b-h that stole her husband from her was still after her. And she was not yet able to handle this woman yet. Even Constantine wasn't able to help her fully.

She sat on the couch in the small single bedroom apartment as he stepped through the door. He had graduated from the Nova Moscow Academy in Human Resources and so he was now working overtime trying to work with all the refugees that had arrived. He slumped into his chair and sat down, seeming to sink into the chair.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" he asked, his eyes a little vacant as he was extremely tired.

"For taking me in," she said, "I realize it must be hard on you to have another person living here. And I doubt it's not easy on you and your girlfriend."

"Oh," he frowned, "It's no problem. None at all."

While he said that, she could feel his trying to mask his own pain. She dug deeper into his mind, and saw that he was trying to clamp down on the memory. His girlfriend had dumped him last night. Over Lyta. Bart wouldn't turn Lyta out, and his girl friend had left him.

"Oh," she said sympathetically, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to come between you and your girlfriend."

He lifted his hands and dropped them back onto the armrests. "Wasn't like much was going to happen," he muttered, "It's not like you at all. You were dedicated to your husband. To both of them. She on the other hand, just wanted a good time. Do I regret brining you in? No, you need my help."

"And it looks like you need mine," she said, suddenly feeling aroused towards him.

"Thanks," he smiled, "But, well...I'm never going to find a woman. They are rare now as it is, and well, it's hopeless. And so, I better just get used to it. Ah..." he waved his hand, "Listen to me babble on. Not your problems."

"I don't mind," she smiled, "Want a hug?"

"A hug?" he asked, turning to look at her, "Why?"

Lyta wasn't the type to rush into her feelings. But, she also didn't realize that these feelings were artificial. No substance. She was latching onto anything or anyone that made her feel good inside and helped soothe the pain. But, she obviously didn't know that.

"I find hugs are very helpful," she said, "And you seem in need of one."

He thought about it for a second, and then nodded. "Sure," he said, "And you probably need one too."

"Like I said," she nodded with a smile, "It helps."

So, the two stood up and walking up to each other hugged each other in an embrace. While his hug was a soft one, she squeezed him tightly. And, when he tried to break the embrace, she wouldn't let go. Next thing the young man knew, her hands were touching some stuff he didn't exactly want touched.

"Woah!" he pulled back, breaking out of the embrace, "What are you doing?"

"You have been so nice to me," she said, smiling, "And I just wanted to thank you."

"A simple thank you would..." his eyes grew wide as she began to unbutton her blouse, "I...I..."

"You were saying?" she asked, standing before him and dropping off the shirt.

He stared at her and then with a quick slap to his own face back away. "I'm...I'm...going to leave," he said, turning around and running into the door, before opening it and closing the door. Leaving her by herself.

-Got to hand it to him- Constantine commented -The boy would make a Christian Grandparent proud.-


	26. Growing Movement

**Chapter 25: Growing Movement**

The Moon of Zombrego was along an important trading route for the space between Narn, Centauri Prime and Kah'Markab. But, it was abandoned, despite the ease of which one could have housed in there. It had simply used up its usefulness and while the trade routes were still open, the moon was vacated.

At least, so people thought.

That's one reason Raiders used it. The leader of the Raiders was a smooth talker. No one knew his real name, but he went by the name "Governor". No one would have know his really name was Philip and he had grown up in the American State called Georgia. But, he had left that all behind. He and his good friend Milton had decided to start this organization after Earth had fallen. The Governor had valuable military experience, and while most of his outfit had just as much military experience as a bunch of schoolgirls mooning over imaginary boyfriends, they made up for it a hundred fold with their enthusiasm.

And especially now with the big wars going on, they were making tidy profits. Everyman there had made enough money that a few had even retired and were living like kings with adoring wives and happy families. But, more loot was to be had. More ships to plunder.

His personal assistant came up to him as he stood above the old Mar'kab hangerbay, surveying his small armada of ships. Dozens of triangular one man fighters that looked like a lightened version of the old United States Stealth Bombers were lined up, side-by-side. He could make good on all the loot he'd get for years to come with these ships.

His assistant stopped a couple feet from where he stood and folding her arms said, "Alright, Governor. We've got a message coming in for you. Says he has an interesting proposition for you."

He smiled, his face contorting to the smile. He liked the sound of that. Turning away for the sight of his power to look at her with his one eye, he nodded slowly.

"Let's not keep them waiting," he said, "Lead on, foul temptress."

Rolling her eyes she turned away from him and he followed her elegantly long legs out of the hangerbay and towards his office. His eye began itching and he cursed as he reached up to scratch it and it touched the cloth of the eye patch. There was no eye there anymore, it having been destroyed by a vicious Minbari. He had severed the head of that foul creature and added it to the heads that lined his trophy-case in his quarters.

He spotted Milton standing there, sitting off to the side. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the desk. He nodded towards him, and then turning to the screen saw a balding man with dark eyes. Well, first impressions were often misleading.

"Hello," he said, spreading his good charm and smile, "It's not often people find how to communicate with me. Forgive the delay, but, I was busy."

"Understandable," the man nodded, "I too am a leader and a have a dozen different things to do. And all at the same time."

"Ain't that the truth," he snorted, "So, forgive my manners, but, what is this important proposition you have for us?"

"I am...well, you could call a Prophet for higher powers," he said, "And I am in need of an army. And the profits involved will be lucrative for you."

"We aren't mercenaries," the Governor placed his hands on a hip, "What could you possibly offer us in return? Salvation? What are you, a modern day Joshua or something?"

"I'm more of a Moses then a Joshua," the man corrected, "Joshua came only with intentions of wiping out everything that didn't believe in God. I come to spread plaque and pestilence upon those who would do harm to those Chosen."

"I ain't into the whole Jihad business," the Governor shook his head, "You have to offer me something more concrete to engage my services. And besides, we aren't religious men. We are pirates and warriors of profit. But you probably can't persuade you."

Suddenly, his windpipes started to close and he began to feel his breathing constricted. He tried to breath but suddenly finding he was unable to breath at all, reached up to his throat. His knees started to buckle and he felt himself fall onto his knees. Bending over, he felt hands grab him as he started gagging.

Suddenly, it suddenly became easier and he took did breaths, coughing hard. He looked up, and a smile was spreading across the man's face.

"I'll be there in one hour," he said, and the channel closed.

The Governor's anger began to build up and slamming his fist on the ground stood up. He slapped the intercom button and the intercom system activated. With his voice still ragged he gave his orders.

"We have intruders coming our way," he said, "Prepare for battle."

* * *

"_Flying Monkeys_ to _Double Deuces_," the lead Raider fighter pilot called into his headset, "Do you hear me?"

"Reading you loud and clear FM," DD reported, "_Zorro's Goatee _and _Dancing Sailor _are taking their squads to the other side of the moon."

"_Why is the Governor so anxious about fighting these guys?_" one of the rookie pilots said, _"Wouldn't it be easier to avoid them?"_

"What a stupid question _Toaster Brain_," one of the veterans spoke back, "We don't know what these guys have got. You have no idea if they could just vaporize the entire moon."

"Cut the chatter," Flying Monkeys ordered, "We do as we are told. Now, be ready for...wait, picking something up on sensors. It's..."

"What?" Doubles Deuces asked, "What is it man?"

"Whatever it is," he said, "It's big."

They looked up and even from nearly a thousand kilometers away, they could see a massive ship bearing down upon them.

* * *

It was a monster of a ship. Somehow when the Hand had been driven from the universe, It had been able to hide a few of its weapons behind. And among them was a massive battleship. Shaped like an axe-head, with the front part jutting down, it swept back to a triangle shape. It was completely black, painted to look like the night sky. Among the Hands servants had been a race known as Dea-Mans, which had been corrupted to the more popular 'demons'. Disembodied, they wore cloaks to give their nothingness form.

On the bridge of this warship of the Hand called "_Eclipse_" sat in the high-backed metal command chair Michael Garibaldi and his honor guard of corporeal beings. Even though the warship, called a _Abyss-Destroyer_ as the information planted in his mind by the Hand whispered, it was not yet time for him to reveal the true power that was again seeping into the Galaxy. The gates of Rome were weakening, but the Praetorian Guards must not be allowed to know the gates were being opened.

At over ten miles long, it was a magnificent machine. Even in the millennia it had laid hidden in deep dark places, it had restarted as if it had never stopped running. And this was a mere toy compared to what the Hand brought. Garibaldi smiled at that thought.

"Fighters of unknown origins are preparing to attack us," one of the Dea-Mans reported from his station, his ghost eyes flaming red.

"Tractor beam them in," he ordered, "And prepare my shuttle. I go to liberate Zombergo."


	27. Unleash the Titans

**Chapter 26: Unleash the Titans**

It had been an awkward couple days in the apartment. She hadn't come back hard on Bart, but Lyta was still trying to sort through her hormones. And he kept his distance. Of course he could have asked her to leave at any time, but he didn't. No, he was too much a gentlemen for that. And besides, as her due date was drawing nearer, he also had some experience as a midwife, and he had gathered it wouldn't be best for her to leave his sight.

Nearly a week went by, and one morning, he awoke to the smell of pancakes and eggs cooking. He looked up from the couch (which was oddly more comfortable than his bed) and spotted Lyta in the kitchen, cooking more than just a breakfast for herself. He'd made it clear when she stayed that he wasn't a cook, but didn't need her to cook.

Getting up from the couch and stretching as he did, he stepped over up to the counter that separated the kitchen sink from the small dining space and leaned against it. He looked down at the two plates of food she had made and saw there was an ample supply of food for the both of them.

"What's all this?" he asked, sitting down in the chair.

Lyta looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "I just wanted to apologize," she said, "I have no idea what came over me the other day. I'm usually not so straight forward and well...I hope you can accept my apology."

He relaxed a bit at that, and she could hear his thoughts saying he was glad she wasn't just trying to hit on him again. He took the plates, sniffed it and ate a small piece.

"Nothing to forgive," he said, "You are grieving, and grief does crazy things."

She sat down and smiled as she heard, _Although that was crazy hot what she did! Maybe if she wasn't pregnant we could...wow! This tastes just how Mom made them. Wait...could she somehow be Mom transported forward through time? Wow man, you've been reading too much comics lately. Besides, this chick is ten times as hot as Mom was. Well...that's a matter of some debate._

* * *

"Alright Lyta," he said, "I'm off to pretend I'm a productive member of society."

He stopped when she walked over and gave him a hug. He was at once afraid and concerned but she pulled back and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She then patted his cheek.

"What..." he blinked, confused, "What was that for?"

"You've been an absolute gentlemen to me," she said, "And you've been a friend when I've been in need. You've even put up with my shenanigans without complaint. Thank you for all you've done for me."

He nodded. "I appreciate that," he said, "Thank you. It means a bunch to me. And besides, it's not every day a guy like me gets to save a damsel in distress. A very good looking one at that."

He turned to the door and opened it and with high held spirit walked out and closed the door. Lyta smiled and turned to sit back down, but spotted his wallet on the counter. Well, he might need that. She grabbed it and walked to the door and opened it.

She looked down the stairs to find him pinned hard against a wall, gagging as he was held a couple feet off the ground. She saw him struggle as waves of fear passed through his mind. Then, with the sound of a shotgun, the neck twisted violently 180 degrees and broke. He slumped to the ground, dead.

And around the corner, hatred spilled from her, was a tall blond hovering above the ground. A dark cloud seemed to seep around her. And Looking up at Lyta the darkness became a black fire that shot down the hall, walls coming apart and falling as they were torn apart by the telepathic shockwave. Constantine barely had time to throw up a telepathic wall before it hit, and while it was too weak to keep her from being blasted ten feet down the hallway and slam against the custodial closet, it had at least blunted the attack to keep her from being vaporized.

"I found you, you little b-h!" the blond telepath snarled, gliding forward, "I am going to destroy you!"

Lyta looked dazed as she saw the woman now a few feet from her. It was Talia WInters. Oh wait, she had changed it to Bester when she had gotten married. This was the woman who was out to kill her? They had trained so long together back in the day of Psi-Corps. She had even attended her wedding and she had attended her wedding to Byron. Why would that woman want to kill her?

"Talia?" she asked aloud.

She could feel the energy building up, something she hadn't noticed before, and just as it reached maximum, Constantine shouted, -Roll!-

She did so, as much as her round belly would allow, and the next attack blew out the closet and the wall behind, leading into the adjacent office complex. Lyta staggered up, but a telepathic punch to the face sent her staggering backwards and falling into the office, office workers looking down at her. Suddenly, Talia was pursuing her into the room, and holding out her hands, several people incinerated on fire.

As their bodies fell, the rest of the office workers bolted, but she would have no one leave. She proceeded to smash people into desks, into the ceiling, turned floor panels into quick sand and then re-harden around their stomach, cutting people in half. But, her rage had cost her the few seconds she could have finished Lyta off easily. Lyta was back on her feet, and tightening her fist, punched Talia in the nose, breaking it and causing her to lose concentration.

The power disappeared for a few seconds. Long enough for Lyta, with Constantine adding to her already enhanced abilities with his own, to hit her through the stomach with her own attach, sending her smashing into a wall, the force creating an indentation in the plaster that was an outline of her body.

She seemed to slump towards the floor but halfway down, Lyta felt her mind being invaded by dark thoughts. The attack reached through and over her barriers and she felt her mind being invaded. Dark thoughts entered her mind. Memories were conjured up from her mind.

Her Father was walking from her parents' bedroom, blood seeping from a knife. She ran in and found her mother's throat cut. No, that wasn't true! Mom died in her sleep a year before Earth was destroyed.

Zack was forcing himself onto her. Despite her screams his hands moved to her private parts against her will. No! Zack had never done that!

Byron laughed hysterically as he tortured a mundane toddler, the child squirming as he planted nightmares into her mind. Wait...no! Byron had never been cruel to anyone! He had been a gentle soul. Wave after wave of vile thoughts hit her, and she began to double over, the pain seeping throughout her body. And then with a physical blow to her chest, she fell down onto the body of a mundane, blood from multiple gashes beginning to soak her.

"And now, you vile wench," the blond telepath snarled, "I'll take what you care about most!"

And Lyta screamed as she felt the attack switch to her unborn child. No, no, not her child! Please, anything but her child! But suddenly, the most raw explosion of telepathic power exploded, throwing Talia back through several pillars and causing the ceiling to collapse on top of her. Lyta slowly forced herself up, staring at the pile of rubble that had been that awful woman.

She didn't know where that power had come from. But, it had come only when she had attacked her child. Did it have some raw power that was beyond anything yet explored or seen? Was it past even a P-20?

But, she had no time to think about it as slowly the pile began to rumble and began to move up, soon, the entire pile was began to spiral around in a circle. A vortex of rubble. But, suddenly, Lyta felt every ounce of telepathic power from unborn child, Vorlon and herself coursing through her veins. And lifting up her hand, blasted the entire vortex and Talia flew out of the window. Lyta jumped out, and used telekinesis to call a table to her feet and helped glide her down.

Talia also had one and in middle of the street, people gathering to watch, they circled around above the heads of the people. The air between the two cackled as the telepathic powers were reaching their zeal.

"Whatever happened to you, Talia?" Lyta demanded, "I remember a sweet girl who tried to help me."

"I should have know you would not go down so easily," Talia snarled.

"You are following a corrupt group!" Lyta retorted, "They are turning you against everything you cared about! Other telepaths! Humanity!"

"In my point of view it's the Vorlons that are corrupt," Talia barked.

"I can't help you out of your lost ways with an attitude like that," Lyta pointed out.

"This is the end of you, both Vorlon and Puppet!" Talia snarled.

Talia slammed the table into Lyta's and Lyta nearly lost her balance. Talia hit her hard in the face with her hands and she fell off, falling towards the ground. She barely was able to project wind beneath her to soften her fall, and before she knew it, the table she had been on was flying down at her face. She tossed it aside and it flew into a wall, bowling over several people.

As they turned and fled, Talia barraged Lyta with table after table, piece of wall after piece of wall. Lyta didn't know how much longer she'd be able to hold her own, stumbling back with each blow. Then, a chair smacked her in the shoulder and she fell to the ground, landing on a pile of rubble. Then, with a scream, Talia's desk tilted towards her and she began to fly down, barreling towards her. Lyta reacted, throwing a massive stone slab towards Talia.

Talia deflected it with a laugh but her laugh was cut short as the broken and jagged piping tore through her chest. Suddenly, her controlled flight became uncontrolled and soon she crashed onto the ground, her body bouncing from the impact. Lyta took a deep breath, allowing her body a moment to rest.

But no, there was no time. She pushed herself up off the ground and she crawled across the ground, seeing Talia's body taking deep, ragged breaths. People were beginning to gather, to see what had happened. But, Lyta didn't care.

She edged up to Talia's side, seeing blood bubbling from each troubled breath. She felt one last small telepathic push, Talia unwilling to give up the fight. But, Lyta was in control. And she was vengeful. Grabbing her neck in both hands, she slowly squeezed, letting Talia feel her windpipes closed. Talia couldn't fight back, her back broken. And, right before the last panicked thought, Lyta yanked hard, breaking Talia's neck.

"That's for you Zack," she said, slowly standing up and moving away with a limp and arm hanging at her side. No one dared stop her, but parted as she walked.


	28. Offensive of Light and Dark

**Chapter 27: Offensive of Light and Dark**

Sheridan drummed his fingertips on the table in front of him. Vast maps of the nearby sectors were all around him. The Remnant Civil War was all but over, the few human ships that wouldn't follow him having fled to escape him. But, with him now controlling the Remnant Government through Mr. Morden and the Narn having pledged themselves to his side, not even counting all the Centauri and Human warships at his side, and including the Vorlons that had defected to his side, his forces outnumbered the Vorlon fleets two to one. But, they had pulled back all Minbari back to Minbar and were setting it up as a strongpoint. Centauri Prime was a gilded fortress and they hadn't even gotten to the Vorlon Homeworlds yet.

But, in order to win this war, there needed to be a breaking in the defenses. They needed to pull it down. And as he looked at the maps, he concluded the best place to strike would be Centauri Prime.

"Why there?" Corwin asked, standing before him as he was told where they'd strike, "Minbar hasn't fully gotten their defenses up, and Centauri Prime is ready."

"Exactly," Sheridan said, waving towards the map, "If we hit Centauri Prime and break the defenses, Minbar would get flooded with the fleeing Vorlon forces, and in its confused state we could then hit them all and break them."

"Are you sure it's not going to turn against us?" Corwin said, "With all those forces there, we'd be then fighting basically two whole fleets."

"You'll have to trust me David," Sheridan rubbed his eyes, "This'll work."

Corwin looked doubtful. Sheridan hadn't shaved in apparently weeks now, and he was growing a pretty disgusting looking beard. His eyes were dark with little sleep and he hadn't combed his hair in a while, and it was wild. Corwin also could tell he hadn't taken a shower lately either, the body odor strong.

"Um...sir?" Corwin asked.

"Yeah?" Sheridan said, already looking at other plans, wheeling and dealing with the fate of millions.

"What's the endgame?" Corwin inquired, deciding to steer clear of the issue of the...Emperor's hygiene.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not looking up from the reports.

"What happens once we beat the Vorlons?" Corwin pressed, "Do we keep fighting wars against those who don't believe with us? Do we turn the entire galaxy into an empire under your rule?"

"There are threats out there that need to be prepared for," Sheridan said, turning to look at him, "One I suspect has already begun infiltrating the galaxy. Garibaldi's reaction is exactly what I am talking about."

"And what is this threat?" Corwin asked, "Craziness?"

"No," Sheridan shook his head, "According to what Lorien told me, it's a race that was cast out of our dimension by beings that inhabited the Universe but were not of this galaxy. This race is called the Hand, and they take away all choice from those that serve them. They think they have choice. But no, even the Vorlons offer a choice. Punish you if it isn't their choice, but leaves at least a semblance of free will. With the Hand, that's not the case. We must be united to defeat them."

Corwin nodded. The argument was logical. But, it left many questions unanswered. Like what will this Terran Empire become? Will it become a form of Nazi Germany in space? A Roman Empire of the stars? A Communistic USSR of the Cosmos?

"I have also heard of another race the Vorlons fought," he said, "We should be united if they break through too I guess."

"Oh?" Sheridan leaned back, "And who would they be?"

"I've heard them called Thirdspace Aliens," Corwin said, "The Gods of Death. Surely we must be prepared for them as well."

Sheridan looked away from him, staring at something only his mind could conjure up. "Perhaps," he muttered, "Perhaps."

* * *

Sebastian paced around the throne room, beside himself in wroth. How had they not only taken the Prime Minister but escaped? How were they still evading them? All the Selvan's were able to claim was that they were blind to them.

Blind? How he asked. They used magic. Surely their powers were enough to defeat Technomancy. Techno-mages relied upon technology. Surely the organic and Vorlon powered abilities of the Selvan could overcome them. But no, obviously he was wrong.

A man hurried into the room, breathing heavily. It was a Narn by the name of...well, he had quiet forgotten it. Not that it mattered.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Our hyperspace probes are being destroyed one by one," he managed out with a single breath, all leading to..."

"Here," he grinded his teeth.

No, Sheridan was coming here! This couldn't be! He was supposed to hit Minbar. A whole Vorlon fleet was waiting in ambush there. The Vorlon fleet that was supposed to be here! They had planted the false information that Minbar was empty so they could lure him into a trap. And now all they had was a few Narn heavy cruisers and Selvan battleships. Well...that would have to do.

"I want High General Mo-Mok to deploy his fleet immediately!" he ordered, pointing to his puppet Centauri Minister of War, "Alert Warleader N'Stab that we will be having company. And send word at once to the Vorlon Fleet. Have them send ships here immediately!"

* * *

The hyperspace vortex's opened and as he sat on his flagship, the Shadowship _Omega_, he was able to see the pitiful defenses being thrown up. No, there would be no mercy this time. This time, they needed the pound of flesh. His people needed it.

"Marrago and Kulomani," he ordered through the fleet channel, "Swing to the dark side of the planet and flank any forces there. Corwin, lead the White Stars against the Selvan. Drakh are to attack the Narns. The rest are to take out the Planetary Defense Grid."

And soaring forward, the two fleets joined in heated battle.

* * *

"We have Centauri forces invading the planet through the night side," the Minister of War reported, hurrying in from the war council chambers, "And the Selvan forces are fleeing. The Narns have been wiped out to a man."

Sebastian felt furious. In less than twenty minutes, the battle was against him heavily. Where were the Vorlon forces? Why hadn't they arrived yet?

"Have you gotten a response back from the fleet near Minbar?" he demanded.

The Minister hesitated before answering. "Yes," he said, and left it at that.

"No!" he slammed his cane on the ground and the Minister yelped when electricity shot through his wrists, "You will tell me the response. When is the fleet to be here?"

"The response is this," the Minister said, rubbing his wrists, "_The limb that has erred must be severed._"

Sebastian's eye hardened. No help? They were calling him a limb that erred? How was that possible? He hadn't been the one to create the plans. That had been that idiot Vorcha's idea. He was the one who had said that the Vorlons needed to leave Centauri Prime bare because everyone knew how defended it was. Not him!

In a moment of rage, he raised his cane and slashed through the air and the entire contents of the Minister's stomach spilled out onto the ground. As the Minister fell, he suddenly heard a tisking noise behind him.

He turned and his eyes narrowed.

"Having problems with your staff?" Sheridan said, sitting on the throne of Centauri Prime, "Killing them is not the best way to correct them."

"How did you get down here?" Sebastian demanded, "There have been no reports of any ships landing on this side of the planet."

Sheridan chuckled. "It's time you pay for your crimes against me," he said, drawing a sword from his side, "And this time, I _won't_ be submissive to your punishments."

* * *

Sebastian charged again and Sheridan met his attack with a deft parry of the blade. The blade and cane moved in a fine dance of steel and metal. One was a man of hundreds of years of experience which served him now. The other had the power of hundreds of millions flowing through him, giving his muscles the skills they needed to fend him off.

Sebastian backed off, and slammed his cane into the ground, sending a wave of energy through it. Sheridan hoped over it as if it had been a jump rope. Sheridan sent a string of white lightning from his fingertips which Sebastian caught with the handle of his cane and swing around in a circle shot it back. A flick of Sheridan's fingers sent it flying towards the ceiling.

"I never thought you were a power monger, Sheridan," Sebastian glowered at him.

"Should have killed me while you had a chance, Inquisitor," Sheridan smirked, "I'm by no means as easy to destroy as prostitutes are."

"The city was drowning in sin," Sebastian stated, blocking a stab by Sheridan, "Someone needed to save it."

"If I die today," Sheridan grinned, "I'll be known by my name. You, on the other hand, was never known as a Crusader. A liberator. Not even as Sebastian. Simply as Jack."

Sheridan kicked Sebastian hard in the stomach and he fell to the ground, still clutching his cane in one hand. Sheridan stepped over his and raised his sword high, blade pointed down. Sebastian saw his opened and with both hands pushed the tip of the cane towards Sheridan's chest, the cane becoming super heated as it hit Sheridan and drove through his heart.

"And now you die," Sebastian said, "All glory to the Vorlons."

Sheridan simply smiled and stabbed downwards, driving the sword through Sebastian's skull, cracking it and sending him sprawling. As Sebastian died, the real Sheridan nodded with approval as his hologram finished off the man who had caused such pain and torture in his life.

Jack the Ripper, was dead.


	29. Defense of the Remnant

**Chapter 28: Defense of the Remnant**

General Samuel Thompson strode into the war council chamber in the underground Epsilon Defense Command, the area where all the decisions for the military decisions of the Human Remnant were made. Standing in the room was also General-in-Chief William Hague, the sole commander of the military after General Richard Franklin's unfortunate death.

Also in the same room was Mr. Morden. Who knew what was going through the mind of that small weasel of a man. Thompson thought him to be a fool, and a particularly dangerous one at that. But, he didn't have any control over what happened.

"Thank you for coming, Sam," Hague nodded to him, his hands behind his back and glancing up at the see through glass sector map, "It's nice to have people hurry to these meetings."

"No problem, sir," he replied, stopping a few feet short of him, "My _Shadow Squadron_ has been running routine checks and whatnot. But basically, just lots of boredom. Always nice to get off the ship."

"Oh," Hague said, "You'll be happy then."

Thompson raised his eyebrows, "Sir?"

"As of a few weeks, there has been a division among the powers that be in the galaxy," Morden explained, "Clark has been watching the situation keenly and believe now is the time to no longer sit on our hands."

"I don't understand," Thompson said, trying not to let the disgust towards the man show (and failing horrible).

"Two of the four rebel ships that joined Sheridan in Markab space have broken off and went off to do their own thing," Hague explained, "We aren't sure why, but we know one of the other ships was destroyed recently during combat. This is the one chance we have to pounce while these guys are vulnerable. I want you to take Shadow Squadron and hunt these guys down."

Thompson might not have been in one the know with a bunch of stuff. And frankly, he could care less. What he did care about was achieving military glory. And they were already calling him "The Modern Alexander" for his successful campaign again Minbar during the last war. This would solidify his claims to power. H-l, if he played this right, he'd be in charge of the military, and not the 'Doodling Gentleman'.

"Okay sir," he said, "Where do we go?"

Hague pointed at a small triangle of major stars roughly seven systems away. The Sh'lassen Triumvate. _Yeah_...Thompson felt with a scowl..._this would be easy_.

* * *

As Shadow Squadron jumped into hyperspace, the Governor smiled. Well, grimaced was more like it. Ever since Garibaldi and his cult had taken over the Raiders, they had been planning to strike a major blow against a major power. And the major power they'd be striking against was the resurgent Human Remnant.

He didn't understand why he had chosen the Remnant. But, it was clear he wanted to attack Epsilon III itself, New Geneva even, and retrieve something there. But, the Raiders fleet was small by comparison. Even with the losses inflicted by the year long civil war, there was still a hefty defensive force and it was growing.

The departure of the Shadow Squadron didn't even take out every Shadow Tech ship. There was a new Remnant Omega Destroyer-X called the _Dark Worshipper_ commanded by Dexter Smith that had just become commissioned only a week previous. And not to mention the Babylon Stations, like Babylon 5 which defended the planet itself. But, the Raiders fighters had been upgraded somehow, although he doubted it'd be enough to stop a pulse cannon blast.

"Shadow Squadron has left the Epsilon Eridani," Milton reported, "Shall we commence the attack?"

At the nod of Garibaldi from his command chair, the Governor sighed and gave the order, "Attack."

* * *

"I don't like Sheridan controlling the Empire," Morden said, glancing over at Clark, "And luckily, I have enough power to keep the Shadow forces here out of Sheridan's complete control. Believe me, between the Squadron of Shadow ships here, and your own forces, we won't have to worry about him or the Vorlons."

Clark wasn't really paying attention. It was odd they hadn't flushed Garibaldi out. That was the whole deal behind sending out that information they'd recently gotten. But no, this Garibaldi guy wasn't so easy to bait. Well, once this battle was over, the rebels would be basically crushed.

* * *

"_This is Captain Dexter Smith of the HRSS Dark Worshipper. You have violated Human Remnant space. Identify yourselves or be destroyed. You have ten seconds to comply. This is your only warning_."

The massive warship bore down upon the thirty Raider ships as they flew forward. Very quickly the ten seconds were up, and firing a combination of lasers and pulse blasts, the whole area that had been taken up by the Raider ships was light up with explosions and booms.

But, the Raider ships flew through, not so much a scratch on what should have destroyed them. Starfuries moved to engage in V formations. They were plucked from the sky as if by a finger flying them aside. But the Raider ships blew past the _Dark Worshipper_ which continued to pepper them with heavy fire, hoping to destroy one of the ships. Other starfuries joined the battle from the Babylon stations. But, each were destroyed at ranges that were well outside normal Raider ranges.

As the Dark Worshipper banked starboard in an attempt to swing around and hit them. Hyperspace opened, and a large dark green laser lanced out, striking the ship. The _Dark Worshipper_'s side seemed to shrivel and soon, the entire ship was engulfed in a massive sheet of flames in the shape of a hand wrapping around it and squeezing.

Babylon 5 opened fire with their own defensive grid. One of the Raiders erupted after taking so many poundings, but they also blew right past it and another vortex opened. Another lancing beam hit it, and the side crumpled as if a large fist had hit it. It had been hit so hard it lost its orbit and began to slowly descend towards the shattered surface.

And from deep inside the planet, the Great Machine responded. And a heavy barrage of missiles rose from the surface.

* * *

"What's going on?" Clark demanded as the whole planet surface began to tremble from the explosions racking it. He stumbled as the planet seemed to buck.

It was impossible. Already one of their finest warships was destroyed and one of the stations was falling out of orbit. And from reports, the Great Machine was fighting back against the invaders. But, they were too fast, and they were strafing the planet's surface with explosive missiles that penetrated nearly a mile deep.

"It...it can't be," Morden muttered, "Not...not...the Hand."

Clark didn't get a chance to respond as the whole building collapsed upon him and Morden, killing both instantly.

* * *

Bester stumbled towards the evacuation shuttle, one of the few that was still on the planet. He shoved his way through the gathered crowd and forced himself onto the ship. He could feel the pilot was frantically trying to get the ship moving, but, he was too panicked to think clearly. Bester wouldn't die, not here, and walking into the cockpit stood behind the pilot.

"What...what...what are you doing here?" he asked, nearly bouncing off the walls in panic, "Get back to your..."

Bester crushed his hand and the man's brain simply imploded inside his skull. Bester swept his hand and the straps came undone and the man slide out and onto the floor. Stepping over the body, he settled in his seat and began to calmly get the ship up and running, flying towards the safety of space.

* * *

Garibaldi's shadowy image appeared in the underground facility. He dare not bring in the _Eclipse_ to fight with the Great Machine directly. Three of the great races that inhabited this galaxy had built it, and it could easily match the _Eclipse_ for firepower. And with the Shadow ships already flying towards his ship, he didn't want to have to fight both forces at the same time. Not that he couldn't but it would be too much a show of strength.

He looked around the patients, scanning their minds. When one mind didn't show what he wanted, the skulls fractured and the heart imploded. After twenty, he discovered the one he was after, and throwing his hand up, the tubules and devices retracted from her frail body, the hospital gown revealing more than it hide. But, he was above such petty concerns and base desires. Here was his love, but beyond that, her body would be a vessel to the Hand's Messiah for this Galaxy. He needed her to carry that child.

With a lifting of his hand, she levitated from the chair and flowed to his arms. Clutching her in his shadowy incorporeal image, Garibaldi swept his hand and flames erupted all around, the remaining patients and faculty screaming and writhing with pain as the flames engulfed them, both inside and out. As he and the woman vanished, the room exploded and a large sinkhole collapsed.

* * *

The Remnant fleet was in tatters. They were fighting a fierce containment action, trying to contain the Raiders, who continued massacring the seventy thousand people still living on Epsilon III. Every building was destroyed, and for every Raider ship shot down by both the Great Machine and the Remnant forces, five thousand people would die and a square mile would be destroyed of the cities. Almost as sudden as the assault began, the Raiders turned and raced away from the fleet. And if they thought the battle was over, they were mistaken, for the laser fired again, and the entire planet surface began to collapse. The Great Machine barely escaped, flying from the planet and the great energy shield surrounding it, keeping it from behind exposed to the vacuum of space. It fled into hyperspace, to seek the First Ones as they gathered elsewhere. But Epsilon 3 was destroyed.

* * *

Elizabeth Durman, love of the Michael Garibaldi that had been, awoke to a room, full of priests in white robes and acolytes in black robes. They bore a knife in one hand, and in the other, they bore a book, thick volume and with black binding. They chanted in a tongue she could not understand, but it filled her body with a putrid feeling. She tried to move, but only now did she realize that she was held down. She looked and hands, with long bony fingers with a reddish-black skin clutched her into place, hands too powerful to allow her to move.

And before her, stood Michael Garibaldi. His eyes were dark and empty and at once she felt it was a dream. Of course this couldn't be Michael, the man she loved.

"Mi-Michael?" she asked, "Love?"

"I am Michael Garibaldi," he said, a dark flame smoldering in his eyes, "But I take upon myself the name, Bopor Cbitna, Prophet of the Hand and you shall be called Cbrwehha Matn Anrbona, Mother of the Hand's Messiah."


	30. The Long Slow Retreat

**Chapter 29: The Long Slow Retreat**

Ever since the fall of Centauri Prime so swiftly to Sheridan, there had been a definite strategy of the Vorlons pulling back their forces from where ever Sheridan and his growing fleet went. Anything not fast enough to keep ahead of Sheridan, was inevitably destroyed or converted to his side. A Vorlon fleet had tried to pass off as defectors to get close enough to cause real damage to the fleet, but they had been swiftly destroyed. It seemed Sheridan knew even the intent of the hearts of those who were around him.

Sheridan didn't think about any of that as he stood in the shower, the feeling of his scraggly beard suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He should shave it. As he picked up the razor to begin getting rid of the hair that had decided to residence on his face, he looked at the person before his in the mirror.

_I'm not who I once was_, he thought to himself, the blade of the razor swiftly cutting away at the unwanted hair.

"But who have I become?" he asked himself, looking into the mirror. The mirror looked back at him, but even as he shaved and the mask of whiskers and dirt was removed, the reflection was showing an emptiness. No substance.

He reached up to his face and touched it, and while his reflection showed he did it...the touch did not feel like a real touch. It seemed the memory of a touch. Yes, everything he did and felt seemed more like memories of them, as if he was detached from this existence. Perhaps he wasn't even real anymore.

"Who am I?" he asked, but the door opened behind him and Delenn stepped in, wrapping her arms around him from the back. At once the whole memory of the conversation with himself vanished, as if it had never happened.

"You look so good without all that hair on your face," she smiled.

"Do you think so?" Sheridan asked, turning to her and smiling.

"Yes," she replied firmly.

"I see you are bearing well with taking care of David," he smiled, "Sorry it's not really our child."

"He _is_ our child," she said firmly, "Just because I did not give him life, doesn't make him any less our son. I'm just sorry we haven't had one of our own yet."

"There is time," he replied, "More than enough time. But for now, we go to Minbar."

* * *

-The Righteous surrender nothing to the Betrayer,- the command came from the Crystal Queen, -The Planet shall be destroyed.-

Arthur didn't like the command. He had built kingdoms based upon the ideals of righteousness and hope. Never would he have destroyed a city, or for that matter, an entire planet. But, the Ladyship had given her command. And he was but a humble and obedient servant. His was not to question but to obey.

He issued the order, and the Vorlon planet killer began to power up. Great pulses of energy built up, and hundreds of Vorlons aboard worked casually to bring the weapon up to full power. There was no rush, and besides, you rush miracles and you get rotten miracles, as the saying went.

"I'll be in my quarters," he said, referring to the room with simply a mattress. Obviously he didn't care for materialistic things anymore. But it'd be nice to have a chair every now and then.

-Windows are opening from hyperspace- the Vorlon navigator replied with a harsh cry.

"What?" Arthur demanded, turning towards the viewscreen.

And sure enough vortexes were opening and out spilled the Terran Imperial Fleet. There was only one thing to do. The weapon had to be protected as it continued powering up. And that meant fighting the good fight.

* * *

The Battle of Minbar was the largest engagement of the Second Shadow War. It was also the most intense and brutal of the battles of the war. This time, Sheridan did not negotiate and neither were there any calls to surrender. The White Stars were held in reserve, because with Arthur on board his Vorlon cruiser, there'd be no way for the Vorlons of the allied fleet to keep them from being shut down.

But wave after wave hit the Vorlon line. Strikes near moons and attacks from the rear were all repelled. Two master minds played the game of war. Arthur, who had seen over a three dozen lifetimes of service to alien Gods, a man who had fought on both land, water, air and space. John Sheridan, a man who had seen his Alliance crumble before the superior foe, and yet managed to wipe out an entire enemy fleet.

Soon space was littered with the debris of ships from both sides, but just as the Vorlon planet killer had finished powering up, Sheridan unleashed his own weapon.

* * *

-Power failure,- the Vorlon replied, -Life support is shutting down.-

"No!" Arthur bellowed, "It is a living ship! How can it be shutting down?"

-Ask not the river why it flows,- the Vorlon retorted, -But it does!-

Then, with a shattering explosion, the force of the explosion of the Planet Killer threw the Vorlon fleet into disarray. Power flickered through the Vorlon ship and a scream of pain filled all their minds as the ship felt itself being hurled aside. Yes, even the flagship was heaved onto its side, sending human and encounter-suited Vorlons flying against the far wall, crushing the Vorlons at their posts. A few seconds passed as they disentangled themselves and angrily flew to their posts.

-The enemy is moving into point blank range with their entire fleet,- the Vorlon gunner reported.

"Intensify the forward batteries!" he snapped, standing up and limping forward towards the command station, "I don't want anything to get through."

From the viewport he could see waves of fighters, Minbari, Brakiri, Narn, Centauri and Human flying forward, at the heads of the waves of Capitol ships behind them. How dare they oppose the Vorlons? They brought Light and Order to Dark Places. Did they not understand? Even as the Vorlon lasers flicked away the treacherous Younger Races, it was still clear they were outnumbered and losing.

"What is the status of the fleet?" he demanded, and before him appeared an image of the battlefield.

The lines that had been so neat and compact were now in shambles, and the enemy was flowing through the gaps in the line. One by one ships of the fleet were vanishing, but not without the enemy taking hefty losses as well. No, this was not good!

"All ships are to fall back," he ordered, his voice carrying through the entire fleet, "Damaged ships will remain behind and continue the fight. Act as our rearguard. But we must escape if there is any chance of our escape."

* * *

"Vorlon fleet is falling back," Sheridan heard the report as the Drakh captain gave it.

This was a black day indeed. The ruined remains of ships pelted the side of his flagship as another wave was sent forward. Vorlon lasers slashed through a Brakiri cruiser before him, and he could feel every death in his mind as most were vaporized, but about a dozen had been thrown from the ship as it exploded, still alive. But, such was war.

"Good," Sheridan nodded, "Send in the surprise."

* * *

"There is a vortex opening before us?" Arthur growled as three ships vanished before his eyes. Only then was it compounded by the fact of what he was seeing coming through the vortex. It was the Death Cloud, and boxes in now on four sides, they weren't going to be able to escape.

"D-n Sheridan!" he snarled, "D-n him! Turn the fleet around!"

-What are you thinking?- the Vorlon captain asked.

"We are going straight at them!" he commanded, "All ships, fly straight at the enemy fleet. If you can break out, jump into hyperspace. Any direction. This fleet will survive."

* * *

And so, the Vorlon fleet, desperate not to be caught in the Death Cloud which would have immobilized them, charged Sheridan's lines. Many ships were destroyed in the exchange of fire, but many were destroyed as they rammed each other, neither ship willing to veer away. But it was quiet clear which way the battle had gone.

* * *

-Weapons are gone-.

-Shielding is collapsing.-

-Life support failing.-

-Fires in the weapons room.-

Arthur closed his eyes. This was not how he wanted to go. But, there was no choice. It had been stripped from him. He opened his eyes, and refused to die so easily. He who had lain mortally wounded at Camlann and been saved. He had died when a dozen Anla'Shok, sent by Valen's son had killed him when he had been the Right Hand of Valen, and only one man emerged from there alive. Sheridan would not win so easily.

"Give me ramming speed!" he ordered, "We're going right through them."

There was a quiet as the order was carried out, and the Vorlon cruiser passed through the heavy barrage of lasers and pulse blasts, Shadow lasers and Vorlon beams. Explosions erupted all over the ship, and soon, they were bearing down upon a massive Minbari cruiser. It tried to veer away, but no. Not this time. The Vorlon ships crashed right through it, and somehow it continued forward, not too much damage.

But, it would be over soon. The fifteen ships converging would see to that. And indeed, a Starfury pilot, spiraling from being hit crashed into the bridge, killing everyone on board.


	31. Barbarians at the Gates

**Chapter 30: Barbarians at the Gates**

The numbers just kept coming. Sheridan's fleet numbered roughly four thousand going into the battle, and roughly a quarter of it had been destroyed. The Vorlon fleet itself had only been four hundred ships, but, the losses inflicted were dreadful. But one would not know it. People had seen the Vorlons could be beaten. All their allies were deserting them in droves. There was merely one more refuge for the Vorlons, having pulled back everything.

The Vorlon Empire itself would be a hard nut to crack. But, as hundreds of ships flocked to Sheridan's banner, Corwin begin to wonder if there would even be a need to fight. They'd surrender easily. But, Sheridan seemed determined to drive into the heart of the enemy and rip it from their chests.

He hobbled down the corridor with the crutches under his arms, the splint keeping his broken leg together. During the last hectic moments of the battle, Sheridan had called in the White Star fleet to stop dead a breakout that was about to occur. And the Vorlons had the audacity to throw the switch! Sure, their ships hadn't been stopped dead, but, it had caused the ships to jerk and he had been sent flying into a console. The _Defiant_ was a tough ship, he'd give it that.

He made it to his quarters and slipped inside. "Corwin, David," the Minbari voiced computer spoke, "Message Waiting."

"Who is it from?" he asked.

"Julie Musante," the computer reported.

"Well, well," he said, brightening at the mention of her, "Put it through."

A video of his love came onscreen, and she began talking about how things were going to _Zha'Valen'Venni_. It started off as that at least, but turned towards wishing the war was over. He listened to her tell him she didn't want to stay there, but wanted to settle down with him, back on Mars which was heavy into the rebuilding process.

As the message ended and he looked at the frozen image of her face, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Did he really want to continue being in the inner circle of Sheridan? What if he didn't like what was happening? According to reports, an attacking race had destroyed Epsilon 3 and Clark and the Government was all but destroyed. Wouldn't the Remnant need his services? Better them than this Terra Empire. He didn't even know his old commander anymore.

And could he really settle down as part of the Empire? Where was the ultimate goal of the Terran Empire? He wasn't sure Sheridan had told him everything. How could this galaxy be united except by force? Perhaps he should get out while he could.

_One last campaign_, he thought to himself, hobbling to the bed and laying down stiffly on it, setting the crutches to the side. _Then I'm done._

* * *

"Now we come to the moment," Sheridan said, standing before Marrago, Daro and Neroon, "The Vorlon Empire lies at the doorstep. Do we attack, or negotiate a ceasefire?"

Neroon folded his arms and coughed. Sheridan turned his attention towards him. "You have something to say?" he asked, "Please share your thoughts."

"Are you sure you want to hear my thought, _Emperor_?" he asked, the title dripping acid on his Minbari tongue.

"Of course," Sheridan said, dropping his hands onto the table, "Be my guest."

"Alright," Neroon nodded slowly, "You are making a plan at best suicidal, at worst criminal."

"No plans have made yet," Sheridan pointed out.

"One does not attack the Vorlon Empire and survive," Neroon waved his hand, "My ships suffered heavily during the battle to retake my homeworld. Nearly half of them were destroyed. And what of Daro and his Narn fleet? Or Marrago, whose ships broke during the attack, no offense, dear General."

"None taken," the Lord-General assured him.

"That was simply a small portion of their fleet," Neroon continued, as if Marrago hadn't spoken, "And we know for a fact that the amount of Vorlon ships that have defected to our side are nominal, compared to what they still have in reserve. And also, what other weapons do they have? Defenses? Can you answer me that..._savior_."

Sheridan said nothing, but with a flick of his hand, Neroon suddenly collapsed into the chair behind him. He didn't care what the Minbari thought. In the end, he was both law and master. And the man was obviously a fool for questioning his abilities.

"I must concur with the Narn's arguments, for they hold merit," Kulomani piped up, "We frankly have no idea what the Vorlons have. And yes, we have a mighty fleet and you have mighty powers Sheridan. But, we cannot deny the fact that we will suffer massive casualties. The victory would be Pyrrhic. The costs would leave you unable to command the galaxy, as you have deemed your role."

Sheridan's eye darkened, but he glanced from general to general. All of them had the same doubts and concerns. Of course he would not accept blind obedience from those who served him. But, they would in the end follow his rule of law. His tolerance of free will and questions could only stretch so far.

"Part of the reason the Vorlons haven't already been tossed aside is because of the manipulations," he stated, tapping his fingers against the table.

"Manipulations?" Marrago asked questioning.

"The Vorlons have manipulated us into believing we can't toss them down," Sheridan said, turning his back away from them. "To think we cannot live without them. That they are Gods and mortal men dare not assail the gates of Heaven. Well, guess what? I am a God. And I intend to create every man and woman in the Empire into Gods themselves. Gods that dwarf the Vorlons and Shadows with such an intensity that stars would shatter at our glory. Did you fools really think I'd throw away the military in a fruitless gamble?"

The trio looked back and forth at each other, none of them willing to voice their opinions. Yes, basically, they had. And they were seeing him not as a benevolent dictator, but as a dark malevolent being. Something about him changed as he spoke thus. Perhaps a glimpse into the real Sheridan?

"I won't waste a single life in this campaign," he said, "In fact, I will not lose a man at all."

Neroon raised his eyebrow. "And prey tell how you will accomplish this...miracle?" he asked snidely.

Sheridan smiled, "By showing them the wonder of my power!"

He held his hands out, and light burst from him in sparkles and strips of light. It wrapped around the room, throwing everything into a surreal vision of light. And in middle of the light, was a pillar of darkness, which surrounded a being so beautiful, no man dare look upon him.

"I am John Sheridan," he said, his voice sounding like the falling of warm rain, "God of this Galaxy!"


	32. The War's End

**Chapter 31: The War's End**

All wars end. Centuries might pass, millions might perish, cities and planets be erased by the blood thirst of those who can no longer see the enemy for the bodies on the ground. Weapons might rust, and armor might crack from too much use. Kings and Kingdoms might vanish, and borders might realign. But, all wars end.

And in the Earth Year 2261, that end came.

A single ship entered Vorlon Space. A massive barrier had been erected around Vorlon Space which by design would keep anyone out. But, the lone figure waved his hand and pushed it aside, like a man pushes a curtain to look outside his window to the world beyond. The first planet he passed was Ket'Chum'Saur. A planet with rings around, the First Vorlon Fleet awaited there. Weapons were powered, ready to destroy the lone intruder who dare wander so foolishly into their realm.

"COMECOMeCOmeComecome. FOLLOWMEFOLLOWMeFOLLOWmeFOLL OwmeFOLLowmeFOLlowmeFOllowme Followmefollowme."

The echoes of majesty and power was felt in the hearts and mind of the Vorlons. Their weapons powered down, and they turned to follow him. They continued through Vorlon space, and the Second Fleet faced them, ready to defend the home and hearth from invaders and traitors.

"ComeCOMEcomeCOMe. JOINmejoinME."

And they too turned from their thoughts of vengeance and followed him. And they met the third. And then the fourth. And then the fifth. They meet indeed ten fleets, and each turned to follow Sheridan, as it approached the Vorlon Homeworld and its shining city Kome'a'loot. Orbiting the Vorlon Homeworld, the Vorlon fleet surrounded the planet, all the Vorlons on the planet hearing and obeying his voice, joining him.

Except for a few. Highest General Kiltor did not hear the song. The Three Ministers. And the Crystal Queen. Sheridan had other plans for them.

Down through the deserted streets glided the shuttle. Heading down further and further towards the great Council Chamber towards the Queen. Sheridan stood there, arms folded and watched as the shuttle approached and docked on the planet without resistance. The shuttle landed down at the foot of the Imperial Courtyard outside the gates of the Palace.

He stepped out, and with no one to stop him, entered the Palace, the gates throwing open before him. He threw forth the most blinding of clouds of light and dark and passed underneath the archway of the Palace. The first non-Vorlon ever to set foot inside.

* * *

-The peeble comes to vote.- Kiltor sneered as Sheridan entered the Chamber, the doors turning to let him in.

-He is the booger that must be picked from the nostril.- One of the Ministers agreed.

Sheridan looked at the High Council. Each with their own unique encounter-suits. The stood in a semi-circle facing him, and directly in front of his was the Crystal Queen in her crystal cocoon. So safe, so arrogant and lax in her pride. As were all these people.

-It is a part of the machine thinking it _is_ the machine.- another of the Ministers spoke, his encounter-suit throbbing green in the light blue armor.

"I am not a part of the machine," Sheridan replied, "As you can see, I have entered unopposed into your Empire. Your armies have deserted you. Even the populace has turned its back on you."

-Irrelevant.- Kiltor retorted -Once you have fallen, then they shall return. Like sheep back to the Sheppard.-

"And are you the Sheppards of the flock?" Sheridan scoffed, "Then show me your power!"

Sheridan raised a hand, and the Vorlons struck. Blasts of energy flew at him and lightning cascaded towards him. Powerful waves of energy slammed down upon him and a vortex of power and rage whirled, aimed to batter him. The air howled with Vorlon power and authority, and minutes passed as they blasted Sheridan in defiance.

Finally, the storm settled. Despite the ferocity of the assault, the Chamber was left without scar. And still standing was Sheridan. And he smiled, his eyes alit with hell's flame. He lifted his hand slowly until they stood above him.

"And thus you have always condemned yourselves," Sheridan spoke, his voice booming from all directions, "You destroy yourselves with your own power!"

And with a thunderstorm of power and vengeance Sheridan hurled back all the energy they had thrown at him. The Vorlons tried to throw up defenses, but their own power blasted it aside and with a massive set of explosions and pain ridden screams, the Vorlon encounter-suits burst open and before they could flee, their energy forms were destroyed. Before anyone knew, only Sheridan and the Crystal Queen herself remained.

Sheridan walked up to her slowly, a smile of triumph spreading across his face. But the Crystal Queen was not done yet.

-Those who can see know who you are,- She spoke.

"And who am I?" Sheridan asked.

-Kilmojoran- she said, -The Bringer of Death.-

"Very good, mi'lady," another voice spoke through Sheridan. His eyes turned black and his body seemed to entirely turn black as the creature inside spoke, "Your Cult of Death has served us well. Feeding us the power we needed. And you sent us the perfect servant. You should not have sent him to Za'Ha'Dum to die."

-You have no place here,- she replied, and he felt her power beginning to grow as she prepared to strike out. -Your days in this Galaxy are numbered. The prisoner that escapes his bonds shall always find them again.-

"Perhaps," the Death God said, "But you over-played yourselves. Now, we control the Empire that shall control this Galaxy. They shall soon drench themselves in the blood of their own flesh and we of the Pure Realm shall be made whole through their vile feastings. And then, when the time is right, we shall come fully and partake of the sweet death here fully."

-You shall not win.- the Crystal Queen said, lashing out with a blast but Sheridan caught it in his hand. -These children shall overthrow you.-

"I think not," he smiled and placed his hand on the Crystal tomb of the Queen, began to shatter it, webs of cracks spread from the contact, "For the one who could have stopped us is now ours."

And with a blast of energy that shattered the hall and caused it to collapse, the Crystal Queen died. But out of the rubble stepped John J. Sheridan. The undisputed ruler of the Galaxy.

* * *

"Are you sure that went well?" Londo Mollari asked slowly, as he sat down on his throne with a grimace. He had recently been coroneted by the Centarum, and he was now ruler of the Centauri Republic. As much as was still left. Much was left to be done. And G'Kar had not yet given Centauri Prime back her freedom either. That would eventually have to be fixed.

"I am sure," Minister Virini said, nervously wiping of the Emperor's sleeve, "You had to make an impression. And I am sure you made a sterling impression."

Mollari stuck out his tongue and blahed. But, it was not only to show his disgust at it. But also to hide the pain that was filling him. His torture had been pretty intense. And he wasn't sure he could continually handle it. But...he had to. His people needed him to appear stoic.

"Make my shuttle ready," he order.

"Where are you going, sire?" Virini asked, his eyes wide.

"Home."

A few hours later, Mollari stood outside the front gates of the Mollari Estate. The walls had been knocked down and the entire place had been gutted by fire. He looked around at the ruined orchards and the fire blackened walls. The decaying body of his killed servants littered the ground. Some had fled and been shot or stabbed. In some cases, they had been lined up and shot. Flies swirled around the corpses of the dead domesticated animals.

But, his eyes were drawn to the two women, crucified above the gate. Their wrists and hands had been nailed into the stonework and dried blood was caked on their bodies. The skin was grey and cut. And as he looked at the rotted corpses of Daggir and Mariel in their torn dresses and wondered what had become of Timov.

He stood apart from his guard who stood a few paces behind him, giving him a sense of false privacy. Oh well, there was nothing for him here. The great dream of House Mollari was ashes. He turned to leave when a motion caught his eye. He glanced over at the ruined barn, and saw a woman, dirty and obviously blind. She stumbled forward and turning, he walked towards her slowly, the guards moving in protectively. Although, they were in no better state than most of the common peasantry at the moment.

"Hello?" he asked, "Lady?"

"L-Londo?" she asked disbelieving, "Is...is that you?"

"Timov?" he frowned, walking up to her and touching her. Yes, it was Timov. Who knew how long she had been roaming the area. Alone and blind. And the proud woman wept for once.

* * *

Corwin awoke on the _Defiant_'s bridge, realizing only then he had fallen asleep. It was hard to believe the war was over. And it had finished with no massive battles, merely a mass defection over to Sheridan's side. Sheridan and Delenn was also on the bridge, watching him with a small smile.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, not even going to pretend to be have only been resting his eyes.

"Roughly six hours," Delenn replied.

"D-n," he said, standing up slowly and stretching, as much as his leg would allow at least, "Didn't think I was that tired. So, when did you get onboard?"

"Three hours ago," Sheridan said, "Anla'Shok Tri'ligat had been running things but didn't want to wake you."

David glanced at the worker Minbari in the side station over at the side. He glared mockingly at him. He was a good Ranger. But, who was to take over the Rangers now he wondered.

"I'm going to have to have a talk with Mr. Tri'ligat," he muttered, "So, what bring you on board my ship?"

"_Your_ ship?" Sheridan's eyebrow rose mockingly, although he thought for a second he saw anger in his eyes, "This is my Empire. And everything in it is mine."

David nodded. "I guess so," he said, "But really, why are you here?"

"We have a favor to ask of you," Sheridan said, "But we don't want you just to accept because of feelings of obligation to us."

"Sure," he said, "What is it?"

"How would you like to become President of the newly re-formed Earth Alliance?"

* * *

Bester bumped into the woman, not even thinking as he walked. The woman spun on her heel, ready to strike him down, but then she saw who it was.

"Alfred Bester?" she asked him.

He looked over, a little dazed and confused. All he had been through had really messed with his mind. He wasn't even sure he could talk anymore, or even communicate telepathically. He simply nodded his head, affirming his identity.

"Come with me," Lyta said, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the crowd.

* * *

Meanwhile, deep in Hyperspace, Garibaldi kneeled on the circular pad in the communications chamber of the _Eclipse_. He had tossed aside his old clothing, and had taken upon himself the black robes of the Prophet of the Great God's Priesthood.

"What is thy bidding, My Lord?" he asked, and before him formed the image of a face, disembodied. The face was more shadow then image and it laughed.

* * *

So ended the human year 2261. The Second Shadow War, also called the Last Shadow War, ended. The last two months were a time of rebuilding. Consolidation for the Terran Empire. Emperor Sheridan began the task of organizing the government that would rule the Galaxy, for what he planned to be the next million years. Delenn was ever at his side.

Meanwhile, G'Kar looked from his throne on Narn and looked upon Centauri Prime and it's Emperor. A sickness was growing in his heart, and every day the thought of murder and destruction of the planet whispered in his mind. But not yet, not yet.

As the forces of the Galaxy rested and regrouped, forces prepared to enter into the Galaxy. And once they did, no one would survive. Most certainly not as they had before.

And from the ashes of Earth and Mars, humanity was again finding root.


	33. Behind the Scenes

**Behind the Scenes**

_No Surrender, No Retreat_ concludes the Shadow War which has lasted since _Signs and Portents_ and begins a new era for the _Babylon 5 Alternative Universe_. And frankly, this story is perhaps the most different than any of the others when it comes to, what I envisioned and the end product. And, to be honest, the one that I most want to go back and do heavy editing on, for many ideas that I wanted for the story never made it in and need to be in this, and not in the next story _The Wheel of Fire_.

One of the differences I can think of is Marrain's end. Marrain, the ill-fated Grey Council member, was always going to have a pretty epic ending. But, I quiet forgot what I originally wanted to do with him. But, I think his being killed by Ulkesh was pretty good. I mean, in many ways it's the same as being killed by Palpatine, it's pretty good if you can go out that way.

Another difference is the involvement of the Selvan. They simply didn't work themselves into the story that much. I really wanted to add some real Selvan action, but, I guess that will need to wait until the edit.

Okay, so to the story. Sheridan was always going to come back. Yes, I did toy with the idea of him never coming back. Which would have been completely AU, which is what I'm going for. But, the way I brought him back does the story justice. I had always tried to figure out the question of, "How do I make him Emperor?" That was always a major objective of mine. I toyed with the idea of having the Alliance win the war, but be in such a broken state that Sheridan is able to convince them to come together in an permanent alliance and he be set up as the leader. But, I think it works out beautifully.

Sebastian was always going to be killed. But, I always imagined him killing Morden and then him dying, probably by Marcus. But, when Marcus died, (which I did toy with the idea of Sheridan swooping in to his rescue, just as was lobbied in one of the reviews), I decided it was more poignant to have them do it that way. It then switched to perhaps Galen and Gideon killing him. But, that never sat right with me. But Sheridan _did_ feel right.

Now, I do think I perhaps played the idea of the Vorlon mind control over the telepaths and the Minbari to harshly. Especially in the case of the telepaths. Especially since besides saying the Minbari had been controlled, I never got into how they were being used. That simply became moot to me as I was writing, but the story will eventually get some mind-controlled Minbari action.

You will perhaps note a theme with my stories. At least one major character will end up imprisoned. One main character will disappear on an quest of improvement one might say. And the maturity level seems to increase. And Garibaldi and Sheridan always seem to get kicked in the teeth, metaphorically.

Now, in some ways, I'm pleased with Clark's end. Originally, that was going to be part of the main war effort, with Sheridan launching Corwin against the Remnant. There was going to be a ex-lovers quarrel between Corwin and Lochley, which would involve either her surrender or destruction, depending on how angry Corwin was at the moment. And Clark would eventually die. Because, he always has to die in any AU it seems.

G'Kar was going to get a lot more screen time, and Lyndisty was really going to be of no importance. In fact, I don't believe I gave any indication she was pregnant in _Point of No Return_ so when I was writing about her pregnancy, in this one, it was quiet clear, at least to me that either she had either a premature childbirth, or Centauri females have a smaller gestation periods for their child.

Now, the Raider's introduction into the story, ended up being briefer then what I intended. But, the Governor and Milton are homage to the _Walking Dead_. And hopefully you realized that. And if you haven't, you don't watch _the Walking Dead_, perhaps the best tv show in a long time.

I originally was going to hold off on bringing in the Hand until the next installment. I even said that in the BTS of _Point of No Return_. However, it seems to have gotten a fairly good reception from the readers. But, it simply worked out well the way it happened. Making Garibaldi that Prophet of the Hand seemed to be awesome. Now, I didn't do it because Garibaldi in Season 4 in B5 went nuts because of Bester. I didn't even think about that as I was writing it, but it wasn't until he was back on the station, beginning to infect people I realized the similarities. But no, that's pure coincidence.

Now, I wanted Garibaldi and Elizabeth Durman back together. And, so why not this way? Now, the names Garibaldi Christians them is actually a loose translation of the English phrases "Foe of the Light" and "Mother of the Devil" into Ukranian through Babelfish. The way it actually appears on there is _Ворог світла_ and _Священна мати диявола._Obviously I want people to be able to read it, so I changed the words a tiny bit to their English counterparts.

And if you couldn't tell, there is much _Star Wars_ homage being paid when I go into the Hand. The _Abyss-_Destroyer is a homage to the _Eclipse_-Class Star Destroyer and the scene of Garibaldi contacting the Great God is reminicent of the communication scene in _Empire Strikes Back_. I don't know, but for some reason the Hand seems to scream "STAR WARS!" I even thought of perhaps using a B5 version of the Galaxy Gun to destroy Epsilon 3. But, that is most certainly not possible in the B5 universe.

I'm sorry we didn't get to see Draal. I'm sure Draal could have used the Great Machine to stop at least the nukes of Epsilon 3. However, he didn't. One, because it wouldn't have stopped the telepaths. And two, I wanted the reader to question...why? Why is Draal allowing this? And of course, I can't let the Great Machine be destroyed, so it had to survive. Beside, _A Dark, Distorted Mirror_ already did the destruction of the Great Machine.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to do the Third Space Aliens. As such, I debated whether the Hand had control of Sheridan and Lorien, or if it was the Aliens. And so, during the battle with the Crystal Queen, I decided to do it that way.

And yes, I wanted Lyta doing all she did. The story was pretty strong for Lyta's character, and I especially loved brining in Bart. Now, Bart Johnson was the name of the actor who played the Ranger Lyta did a death bed scan with in "Paragon of Animals" in season 5. The seduction scene was just fun to write, and his remarkable resistance to her advances. Not sure I could escape that particular Red-Head. Ha.

And yes, there was a Star Wars influenced scene during the telepath throw down. Which, I am pleased to say worked out way better than I hoped for. It was the most anticipated part of the story for the readers (I got several messages on why I hadn't yet gotten to the showdown). I also was sad we never got that match in the prime series. So, it had to see the light of day.

Now, the battles weren't as in-depth as the personal duels and what not. Which was what I wanted. I didn't want it focused on the battles but the story.

So, yes, there will an edited edition. In it, we shall get more Selvan action, more of Kulomani, more Marcus and Corwin. Corwin and Musante needs more time. The Battle of Minbar will be more grand. In the end, there's going to be a bunch more stuff. But, that won't be on the site and I won't work on it 'til after I finish the series. Now, if you want it, you'll need to message me for a copy of it.

Now, I shall be taking a few weeks break before writing the next installment. _Wheel of Fire_ and _Crusade_ will finish up the series. But, since we are in the downslope and on the way to base, it should be fun.

Again, thanks for reading the series.


End file.
